


Hands

by PorcelainStorm



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Anxiety Attacks, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Triggers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:46:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 73,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7270723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcelainStorm/pseuds/PorcelainStorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Miller is an agoraphobic best-selling author.  For months now, she's spent her days in solitude; hiding in her Brooklyn apartment and avoiding the world.  After Steve Rogers moves into her building, the pair strike an unlikely friendship.  With hesitation, Emma and Steve open up to one another and mend the wounds both of them suffer.  This healing doesn’t come without costs.  Complicated webs are weaved, bonds are tested and the pair find that hope can be just as powerful a weapon as strength.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stopping by! This is my first story on AO3 and so far the response to this story has been absolutely amazing.
> 
> Please enjoy! (Civil War Spoilers Ahead! ****)

* * *

 The afternoon sun began to dip behind Emma Miller’s apartment building, casting shadows over her fire escape.  The author stretched out, trying to catch the last few rays of sunlight for the day.  She frowned at the sunset and took a long sip from a partially empty wine bottle.

Where had the day gone?  She felt like she hadn’t gotten much of anything done, and yet here the sun was setting over the city. 

This was a reoccurring pattern in Emma’s life.  She often wasted away her days, seldom leaving her apartment or communicating with the outside world.  _Occasionally_ she would field a phone call from her editor or her mother, but those days were rare and far between.

Crawling through the window of her apartment, she discarded the wine bottle on an accumulating pile of trash.  An entire corner of her kitchen had been dedicated to the waste after her former housekeeper was fired. 

She’d yet to bother searching for another, knowing that her attorney would have to get involved and contracts would have to be signed.  Emma really didn’t like dealing with other people. 

She passed her open laptop, a half written document taunting her form a distance.  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to write; she had plenty of ideas.  Emma was just… _anxious_ about it.

Since her book was released to the public, things had gotten significantly more complicated in her life.  She just couldn’t focus on the material she needed for the sequel because the memories attached to it were too overwhelming.

With a broken engagement, secrets from government agencies, and cities falling from the sky, Emma decided it was best to keep to herself.  _Especially_ after a certain incident during an interview and signing at the Today Show.  Emma decided to really lock things down.  She needed a break from real life. 

She’d leave from time to time in order to pick up necessities, but would quickly return before she was recognized or approached.  _Amazon.com_ became an important staple in her life, providing daily orders of groceries and non-perishables. 

Emma couldn’t even recall the last time she’d used her car.

It was on a particular afternoon in June while Emma was debating Chinese delivery or pizza, when a soft knock sounded on her apartment door.

Emma Miller wasn’t one to received unannounced guests.  She’d moved to Brooklyn recently, removed all contact information from her publicity agency and editor, and refused to give her mailing address to _anyone_.  She usually gave the delivery boy her building address and met him in the lobby.  No one knocked on Emma’s door. 

Standing frozen in the kitchen, Emma was unsure of what to do.  The rational thing to do would  be to pretend she wasn’t home.

Another knock.

But then curiosity got the best of her.

That was what the tiny viewing hole in the door was for, after all. 

She made her way to the door and peered out, not recognizing the blond man that stood on the other side.

“Can I help you?” the question came out a little harsher than she’d intended.  The man looked startled and leaned into the closed door to respond.

“The landlord accidentally left a letter for you at my apartment,” he explained with a wave of his hand.  “I er, live across the hall.  I just moved in.”

A neighbor.  Emma’s hand hovered over the door knob a moment before cracking the door open slightly. 

“I’m Steve, by the way,” he introduced himself, raising his hand for her to shake.  Emma eyed it suspiciously before he dropped it to his side. 

“Emma,” she responded quietly, pushing a strand of brunette hair out of her face.  She’d never had neighbors in an apartment before.  She paid for the more expensive unit toward the top of the building to avoid interactions with the building tenants.

“It’s nice to meet you Emma,” he repeated the name, a smile playing on his expression while he handed off the letter.  “And I believe this belongs to you.”

She took the envelope and scanned the front.  10B.  That _was_ her apartment. 

“Thanks,” she murmured, leaning onto the door for support.  This was probably the longest conversation she’d had in weeks.  What was she supposed to say?  How did this work?  “When did, uh, you move in?” she questioned.  It was forced, but she felt bad just closing the door and continuing with her evening. 

“About a week ago,” he replied lightly.  “Got a great deal from the landlord, though I’d be willing to pay anything at this point.  I’m just glad to be back in Brooklyn.”

 _Oh no._   It was her turn again. 

“Are you from Brooklyn?” she asked, the question coming almost automatically.  If the conversation was in one of her books, it would read as dull and emotionless.  No chemistry between the characters, no genuine investment. 

“Back in the day,” came his vague response.  He looked down a moment before returning his gaze to hers with a smile.  “What about you?”

“Michigan,” she replied, careful not to give too many specifics to the stranger.  He didn’t need to know the city.  He didn’t even need to know her last name.

“What brings you to the city?” he tried to ask cheerfully, but Emma frowned and mumbled a response about work.  Clearly the guy got the message.  He shifted his weight on his heels a moment longer before excusing himself and retreating back into his apartment.  

Emma released a long held breath once her neighbor’s door clicked shut.  That went about as well as she could have expected.

She closed her door firmly, latching it shut and sliding the chain through its thread.  With a deep breath, she leaned up against the cool surface and slid down to the floor, grounding herself on the hard surface. 

She felt her heart pounding, an impeding wave of panic threatening to spill over at any moment.  Trying to distract herself, she ripped open the envelope and scanned over the short letter.  Apparently her heater needed replaced. 

Workers would be in her apartment the next day.   The landlord apologized for the inconvenience.  

Ah.   _There_ _it was_.  She felt the wave crash over her and she pulled her legs to her chest.  It was such a minor thing, and yet Emma felt so _violated_.  Hardly anyone knocked on her door, but no one entered her apartment.  _Ever_.  She couldn’t even comprehend how to handle the intrusion. 

The landlord hadn’t even left an estimated time for her.  

 _Shit_ , it was going to be a long night.

* * *

The following morning Steve Rogers had just returned from his daily jog when he caught Emma struggling in the hallways with a few bugling bags of trash.  She kept looking over her shoulder into her apartment wearily before closing the door softly. 

“Need help?” he spoke up, but clearly Emma hadn’t seen him approach.  She immediately paled before recognizing her neighbor.  Mumbling under her breath a moment she looked up at him.

“If you could,” she relented with a frown toward the elevator.  “Apparently the landlord didn’t think to install a garbage shoot.”

The woman in 10B was certainly an enigma.  Prior to the day before, he hadn’t even realized he had a neighbor.  The woman was quiet as a mouse, hardly ever leaving her apartment or opening the door.  

He hefted a few or the heavier bags toward the elevator, holding the door while Emma scrambled behind him with her clutch. 

They stood in silence while the elevator moved to the first floor. 

The landlord had joked that an eccentric author lived on his floor, but Steve had paid it no mind.  He wasn’t necessarily back in Brooklyn to make friends, despite what Sam Wilson insisted. 

“Thanks,” Emma murmured before the elevator came to a stop.  “The landlord just came by to do some work and I… I kind of panicked.”  She let out a forced chuckle before climbing into the lobby and out the side door. 

Steve followed behind, tossing his bags over his shoulders with ease and measuring over the author.  They stood in the alleyway next to the apartment building awkwardly before Steve broke the silence.

 “Is everything ok?  It’s nothing serious, is it?” he questioned, trying to stir a conversation out of the woman.  She gave him an even smile and shrugged. 

“He needed to fix my heater,” she explained.  “It was leaking into the unit below me…”

Clearly the brunette woman didn’t know what to do with herself. 

“Would you like to get breakfast with me?” he offered, running a nervous hand through his hair.  Seventy years and he was still a train wreck around women, even the mousy ones.  “There’s a great diner down the road.”

She weighed the option a moment, glancing up at the building before nodding.

“Food sounds good,” she agreed.  He could practically hear her stomach grumbling over the noise of the nearby street. 

After a quick pit-stop at his apartment (where Emma waited in the doorway), they were on their way. 

* * *

Steve chatted aimlessly while they walked to the diner.  He told her how he found the apartment and how he’d grown up in a building the next block over.

“I can’t believe how lucky I was to find _anything_ around here,” he joked.  “It’s like you have to own a million-dollar company to pay for some of the leases.”

Emma didn’t bother adding that writing a best-selling novel also helped, instead keeping her eyes forward and tossing the occasional smile at her neighbor.

It was sweet of him to get her out of the building, but truth be told, Emma felt more out of place than she did amongst the workers.  Every person that passed the duo made her tense in worry, she couldn’t afford to be recognized in public.  Not yet.  Not when-

The knot in her stomach tightened and before it could explode, Steve was holding open the door to an aged diner. 

“The waffles here are amazing,” he suggested, sliding into the plastic booth and thumbing through the menu.  Apparently he ate there often, as the chef shouted a hello and the waitress offered to bring him ‘the usual’.

Emma settled on waffles and a chocolate shake, an unusual choice for breakfast that Steve did not hesitate to point out.

“Waffles are basically cakes,” she countered defensively.  Steve looked personally attacked.

“They are an essential staple of a balanced breakfast,” he argued, pointing the spoon he’d used to stir his coffee in her direction.

* * *

 

There was something about Steve Rogers that made a person let their guard down.

Midway through the meal, he had Emma snorting into her milkshake, having forgotten that they were still in public.  He told her about his friends, and how he’d grown up in the neighborhood they both resided in.  She loved the way his expression lit up when he told a story, or how he used his hands for emphasis. 

However, when the waitress re-appeared at the table, the illusion was broken and Emma boxed herself back up. 

She’d been so careless.  What if someone recognized her?  What if _he_ … she bit her lip.  She couldn’t let herself drift back to that, but it was too late. 

While Steve was settling the bill, Emma slipped outside into the warming afternoon. 

She thought the fresh air would help clear her head.  It just made her head worse.  The impending doom.  The wave of anxiety and panic was sure to follow and she was going to break down in front of this diner.  

If Steve didn’t already think she was nuts, he was about to realize it now.  

“Hey,” a woman approached Emma and tapped her on the shoulder.  Emma’s head snapped up, her eyes wide.  “Are you Emma Miller?  You wrote _Poker Face_ , didn’t you? 

This was bad.  This was very bad.  Someone saw her. 

“I’m sorry I… I need to go,” she tried to excuse herself, but the woman was persistent. 

“Please, could I get an autograph?  I wanted to have you sign my book but you cancelled your tour after-,” she paused and dug around her purse for a piece of paper and a pen.  “You seem to have recovered pretty well.  I can’t believe what happened, what a crazy accident.”

Emma was outside of herself.  She clutched onto a nearby railing to keep from collapsing, her hands shaking. 

The woman shoved the paper and pen in Emma’s face and the author scribbled nonsense down and nearly sprinted toward her apartment building.  She needed to be safe.  She’d been recognized and that meant anyone could… Was _he_ there?

She took a left instead of a right, circled around a block and found herself in a completely unfamiliar area. 

Her hand wrapped around a light post while she tried to decipher a street sign, but to no avail.  The world was too shaky.  She was too shaky.  She could hear herself breathing and her heartbeat pumping in her ears. 

Emma backed into a brick building and tried to ground herself.  She needed to get home.  She needed safety. Anyone could see her.  Anyone could recognize her.  Groups of people passed by, sending concerned glances in her direction but failing to stop. 

“Emma?” a voice broke through the shouting in her head.   

She squeezed her eyes tight.  This was it. 

“ _Emma_ ,” the voice was at her side, calm and familiar.  Steve.  It was enough for her to get a footing in the real world.  “Let’s get you home.”

He was gentle, reaching for her hand and pulling her away from the building.

“You’re safe,” he kept reassuring her as they walked the sidewalks toward their building.  His hand was Emma’s only anchor to sanity. 

He held her hair back when she heaved her meal into the street, and clutched onto her hand until they stood outside of her apartment. 

When had they gotten there 

Emma opened the door in a daze and locked her multitude of locks behind her.  Fortunately the landlord had finished his task while they were out.

She collapsed onto her couch, her body finally realizing that she was safe. 

No one could get her there.  No one knew where she lived.  Not the woman.  Not anyone.

 _Except Steve_ , a small voice reminded her.

 _Except Steve_ , she mentally agreed.

_Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing._

 

           


	2. Bravado

           

* * *

The next morning began the same way Steve Rogers usually started his day.  He awoke by 6am, made a small breakfast, worked out, ate a larger breakfast, and watched the news. 

It was everything he could do not to lose his mind.  After everything with Bucky, he decided that laying low would be best for a while.  Sure, Tony had talked down the Sokovia Accords, but the world was still on the fence about costumed vigilantes.  He couldn’t risk the fragile peace that now existed between the United Nations and the Avengers.

“… In entertainment news today, Stark Studios announced the movie adaption of Emma Miller’s bestselling novel, _Poker Face_ ,” Steve sat a little straighter in his recliner and turned the volume a little louder.  He didn’t want to miss this. 

“For those of you living under a rock, _Poker Face_ examines the political turmoil facing the US Government after the fall of an elusive spy agency.”  The screen cut to a video of Emma dated a few months previously, smiling and laughing at the camera as she talked about her inspiration behind the novel. 

“It’s pretty clear isn’t it?” she joked, her brown eyes lighting up when she spoke.  “With SHIELD being exposed there were a lot of secrets that were spilled into the world at once.  I wanted to take those insecurities and mess around with them.  The story is fantastic, in my opinion, because not only does it focus on the spy agency, it also examines its terroristic ‘evil’ half and the public reaction.” 

The imagine returned to the smiling blonde newscaster, shuffling her papers and looking to her male companion. 

“Reports from the author’s camp say the author is looking forward to collaborating on the project,” she gave another toothy smile to the camera before switching to a commercial break. 

While a fast food commercial chirped in the background, Steve went to his desk to dig out his laptop.  It’d been a gift from Natasha the last Christmas, and he’d gotten plenty of use of it since he opened it.  It seemed like the internet had information on anything. 

24-hour pizza places?  Check. 

Laundry services?  Check.

Information about elusive authors?  Check. 

He just typed her first and last name into the search engine and was met with thousands of results.  They ranged from pictures to news articles.  He clicked the first video that popped up and watched a more energetic Emma speak at the opening of a bookstore. 

She had more life in her then.  Her face wasn’t as pale and she didn’t jump at the sound of passing cars.  

He clicked out of the video and switched the window to Amazon and skimmed the Best Sellers’ List.  Sure enough, _Poker Face_ was toward the top with thousands of positive reviews. 

If there was one thing that stayed the same throughout the years, it was the public interest in political scandal.  There was a conspiracy theory for everything and Emma had come in at the right time to write about it with the fall of SHIELD. 

He ordered a hard-copy of the book and before he could investigate further his phone chirped to life.  It was either Natasha or Sam, he guessed with amusement, setting his laptop aside and grabbing the smaller device off of his kitchen counter.

Sam.

“Hello?” Steve greeted, returning to the living room and leaning against his couch. 

“Hey man,” Sam’s voice was nearly drained out by the sounds of shouting in the background.  “You free?” 

Steve wasn’t sure how to respond.  He didn’t have any set plans for the day, though he'd made a mental note to check on Emma eventually.

“What’s going on?” Steve questioned before he committed any further.  Occasionally Sam would call him for the sake of getting him out of the house.  He meant well, and Steve appreciated his effort, but sometimes the events he dragged the super-soldier to were a little _much_.  

“Nat and I sort of-,” he paused mid-sentence to shout at someone nearby, before returning to the line.  “We stumbled on this drug ring and could use some help.  It’s just outside of Yonkers.” 

“Yonkers?” Steve repeated, making sure he’d heard correctly.  Yonkers didn’t exactly have the reputation of holding drug kingpins. 

“Yeah, look,” Sam sounded distracted.  “I gotta go.  I’ll send you the coordinates.  We'd love to have you join the party."

Steve didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye before the line went dead.  He tossed the phone onto the sofa and eyed his shield at the front door.  He’d been itching for an excuse to get back into the field again. 

Normalcy wasn’t Steve Rogers’ forte and he’d end up finding out Emma’s entire life story if left to his own devices. 

With a hesitant glance toward Emma’s apartment, he listened for movement but heard nothing.  It was only 9 am, so there was a decent chance she was still in bed.  

That settled it.  He grabbed a few more supplies before slinging his shield over his shoulder and hurrying out the door. 

  

* * *

Hours passed and the small drug bust ended up inciting some sort of local gang war.  It didn’t take long before gunshots were being exchanged and civilians were at risk.  The warehouse erupted in flames and the neighbor was shroud in chaos.  Steve and Nat did their best at evac, but eventually Tony was called into the situation.  After he arrived, things started to settle down. 

Arrests were made and when the scene began to clear, Tony pulled him aside.

"It’s been a while,” the billionaire began.  There was a clear awkwardness between the two former friends.  It’d been months since their last face to face encounter and it hadn’t ended well. 

“It has,” Steve nodded and reattached his shield to his back.  “Thank you for your help back there.  It could have gotten ugly.”

“I do what I can,” Tony instantly replied before taking a step back.  “I had FRIDAY running dynamics on this place while I was en route.  Turns out, the owner doesn’t technically exist.”

“What?” Steve frowned, eyeing the balding man talking to police.  He had very loudly claimed to have been the landlord of the building after the dust had cleared away. 

“False identity,” Tony confirmed.  “Shady bastard.  But that’s not even the real kicker, ran some facial recognition and he’s an old friend of Jasper Sitwell.”

“HYDRA Sitwell?” Steve’s voice lowered when an EMT passed by the pair. 

“The one and only,” Tony murmured.  “The landlord’s real name is Alan Marcel.  Has some ties to various cartels throughout the world, funded a lot of HYDRA missions through SHIELD... The whole shebang” 

“Why aren’t we arresting him?” Steve turned his full body to Tony for an answer.  If this guy was as bad as he was suggesting, it would be too risky to leave him on the streets. 

“Why indeed,” Tony agreed before his face shifted into his world famous smirk.  “I just thought you and your ‘secret’ friends might be interested in finding a few HYDRA cells stateside.  Lord knows we aren’t exactly internationally friendly anymore.

“Oh we’re _very_ interested Tony,” Natasha appeared at Steve’s side without so much as a sound.  “Though I’m a little hurt you didn’t feel like sharing with the class.”

"We can’t just let him go,” Steve protested and was met with identical stares from Natasha and Tony.  “He could hurt someone.”

“We’ll be monitoring him 24/7,” Tony spoke slowly, spelling out the obviousness of his plan, much to Steve’s irritation. “He won’t sneeze without us knowing about it.

“Plus, we have nothing on him,” Natasha reasoned a little softer, noting Steve’s body tense at Tony’s comment.  “We can’t really haul him off to prison for faking some paperwork on a warehouse.”

She had a point.  If the authorities were interested in taking him in, they would have done it already.           

Steve sent another look at the man, making brief eye contact before turning back to his teammates.  It wasn’t the best plan, but it was _something_.  And as much as Steve hated to admit it, it might be their only way to get back at HYDRA again.  They would need to start locally. 

“Are we calling in everyone for this operation?” Steve questioned in a low voice.  The press was already starting to arrive and the police were doing their best to quell the excitement.  

“I’ll have my people call your people,” Tony merely responded.  “Let’s do lunch.”

That was the final exchange between the pair before Tony blasted off toward Manhattan leaving Steve and Natasha standing in the middle of the road. 

“What’d I miss?” Sam jogged over to the group and Natasha shrugged the question toward Steve.  When the super soldier remained silent in thought, she answered instead.

“We’re getting the band back together, Wilson,” she clapped him in the shoulder and walked back toward their cars.  “Time to get to work.”  

“Really?” Sam questioned Steve with raised eyebrows.  “I saw Stark and didn’t think…” 

“I’ll explain over some dinner,” Steve relented with a sigh, his stomach gave a grumble of agreement. If it wasn’t enough Tony and him were on speaking terms again, they were apparently going to tackle HYDRA together. 

It certainly wasn’t how he expected his day to go.

  

* * *

 

“You know, I knew something was up with that place,” Sam bit into a platter of pancakes and spoke, waving his fork for emphasis.  “The guards were way too well trained for some punk kids.”  

“Did you get anything from inside?” Steve asked over his glass of water.  He had long finished his meal and debated ordering a second course while Sam finished. 

"Nah,” Sam shook his head and chugged down some coffee.  “Place was a mess.  The fire pretty much destroyed any evidence.  I think the kids ended up only getting arrested for arson." 

That was convenient, Steve noted mentally.  What he couldn’t wrap his head around was why HYDRA was getting so bold as of late.  Zemo had thrown a number of HYDRA heads into a scramble for power after he took out their “back-up” soldiers.  The entire organization was essentially tearing itself to the ground. 

On top of that, Steve had heard from Fury that Coulson’s team had handled another threat shortly before the drama with the Sokovia Accords.  

It made no sense for HYDRA to jump back into the game without all of their players. 

“Makes it easier for us, I guess,” Steve finally muttered taking a sip of his drink.  At the end of the restaurant he saw a group order a few milkshakes for their table and his mind drifted back to Emma.  While Sam was finishing the last few bites of his meal, Steve ordered another small meal to go for his surly neighbor. 

“Late night snack?” Sam teased after they left the diner and started back toward Steve’s apartment.  He was holding a carry-out bag and a chocolate milkshake in a styrofoam cup.

“It’s for my neighbor,” he explained, ignoring the burning at the back of his neck.  “I’m convinced she either doesn’t eat or doesn’t know how to cook.” 

“So you’re her… butler?" Sam teased smacking Steve in the shoulder with a laugh.  “She cute?”

“She’s,” he tried to grasp for the right words to describe the author.  “She’s interesting.”

“So, _not cute_ ,” Sam grinned.  Steve gave him a teasing shove and ignored the comment.  “How’d you meet?” his voice shifted almost condescendingly, like a mom asking her high schooler about a new girlfriend.  Steve snorted and shook his head. 

“Her mail got dropped off at my apartment,” he explained with a shrug.  It was the long and short of it all.  “We sort of got food together yesterday."

“Hey!  That’s a start,” Sam exclaimed with a smile.  He held his hands in front of his chest and spelled out his next joke with wide hands.  “Steve, _the ladies man_.” 

“Let’s not jump ahead of ourselves,” Steve warned lightly.  He wasn’t looking for that sort of relationship with Emma.  In fact, he was more interested in what kept her locked up in her apartment all day than pursuing any sort of romantic entanglement.

“Talking is a good start,” Sam reiterated.  “And if it gets your mind off of… things, then I say do whatever.”

Steve took the advice silently and let Sam chat the rest of their walk back.  They said their goodnights with Steve promising any updates once Tony got in contact with him. 

Sam always ended up being right.  Steve believed that the distractions would only be a temporary bandaid, but Sam was convinced that he might be able to make some lasting connections outside of the hero community. 

Before Steve realized it, he was standing outside of apartment 10B.  His hovered over the metal door and he kept pulling it back to his chest.  He didn’t want to frighten her. 

What was the protocol after helping a panicking author out of an alleyway?           

He looked at the takeout bag and frowned.  Should he have brought something else?  Maybe a card? 

He could have slapped himself.  A card.  Did they even make cards for that?

_Sorry about your mental breakdown… let’s get food again sometime?  Here’s a cheeseburger._

Before he had a chance to knock, Emma had opened the door slightly and looked into the hallway. 

“Hello,” he greeted, taken off guard by her entrance.  She looked him over and bit her bottom lip, a nervous tic that Steve hadn’t failed to notice. 

"Hi,” she murmured, her eyes studying at him impatiently.  He fumbled over his hands, nearly dropping the food before holding it out to her.

“I brought you some food from that diner,” he explained, his face reddening at the situation.  “My friend was around and I thought… I hope you haven’t eaten?”

“I haven’t,” and she took the food from his hands and continued standing in the doorway.  An awkward silence fell between them.

“I’m sorry if it’s too late and I interrupted-,” he started, noting that she was clearly standing in her pajamas.  She allowed a rare smirk to etch its way across her features. 

“I nearly burned the building down,” she explained holding her door open a little wider and letting him see the residual smoke lingering in her apartment.  “Thank you for the food.”

“It’s no problem, I wanted to make sure you were ok,” he tried sending a reassuring smile in her direction, but he saw the walls come up around her again.  Her expression tensed and she muttered something about cleaning out her oven.  She started to close the door but Steve spoke up.

“I’m usually home during the day if you ever want to chat or get a coffee,” he struggled through the invitation, trying to read her features to no avail. 

“Thank you,” she said, a little more confidently this time before closing the door.  He could hear her pause on the other side, her footfalls stopping once the locks were secure.  

Steve resolved to call Nat the next morning.

           

* * *

 

 


	3. My Baby Shot Me Down

       

* * *

Days passed with awkward exchanges between the two.  Sometimes Emma would invite him inside, sometimes he brought her some dinner.  They’d chat about aimless things and part ways.  He hadn’t invited her out since the scene she’d caused at the diner, though that was probably a bit of a blessing for Emma.

Things changed when Emma was watching the news and saw her neighbor, clad in red, white and blue, fighting off some monster outside of the financial district.  She’d nearly dropped her glass of water when it occurred to her who he was.

Emma knew that eventually she was going to have to address the super elephant in the room.  She felt so stupid for not putting two and two together and realizing that her neighbor was Captain America.  

To be fair, she thought, how many people encountered this problem in their lives?  Was it appropriate to bake a cake or some pie?  Maybe apple pie would rectify the situation, that seemed… hilarious, she mused. 

With a groan she rolled onto her stomach and pulled her comforter over her head.  She’d have to say something eventually.  Or maybe she didn’t. 

While Emma tried to think of ways to avoid Steve Rogers for the next few years, a soft knock at her front door foiled all of her plans.  It seemed earlier than usual for the polite neighbor, but Emma had been waking up earlier and he must have noticed.

She grabbed her robe and hurried to the front door, she didn’t even bother to check through the view hole to see who it was.  The only person who visited was Steve.  It wasn’t like anyone else had managed to track her down. 

“Getting a little early-,” she started before she stopped herself.  The man who stood in front of her was not Steve.  He was incredibly dangerous and Emma had done everything in her power to avoid him.  _Oh shit._

She tried to slam the door, but his booted foot caught it before it could close.  Emma froze for an instant, to register what had happened.  This was bad.  This was _very_ bad. 

“That’s a little rude Em,” the man teased, a smile crossing his features.  He invited himself into her small apartment and glanced around, tinkering with things on her shelves.  He mostly ignored Emma’s frantic movements or how she was trying to find a weapon.

“You need to leave,” Emma backed into her kitchen and grabbed the first thing her hand touched.  Frying pan.  That would do wonderfully against whatever gun he was toting.

Alec Reynolds was the type of mistake an author with low self-esteem made in college.  Emma wasn’t proud about that chapter of her life, but it happened and she’d tried to move on.  She’d thought publishing was her way out of Alec’s world, but it just dragged her in deeper then she would have liked.

“I don’t _need_ to do anything,” he plopped down at her kitchen table and plucked an apple out of her fruit bowl.  Emma could already hear her heart pumping in her ears, her knuckles shifting white from how tightly she gripped the pan.  “Looks like book sales are going well.”

“ _Please_ ,” Emma tried again, her voice shaking.  “Leave.  There’s no reason for you to be here.”

“Actually,” he stretched and let out a lazy yawn.  “I do have a reason for stopping by.  Remember that cute book you wrote?  Yeah, boss man is really pissed that you aren’t dead yet.”

Emma swallowed, her throat dried at the threat.

“It’s been _months_ ,” she managed to protest quietly.  "You're acting like I wrote down directions to your secret cave."  

He clicked his tongue and shook his head at her, chuckling.  

“Well, my dear Emma,” his hand went to his side and he flashed his pistol at the author.  “We finally got through all of the information you stole and some of it was _very_ classified.  You’re just lucky you didn’t publish it all.  Maybe you’ll get a quick death.  If you cooperate.”

Emma bit her lip.  She’d been riding on borrowed time.  It was a given that Alec and his goons would figure out where Emma got some of the inspiration for _Poker Face_.  Hell, most of the public had figured it out already.

“Everything I have is from the file leak,” she lied, unconvincingly.  Alec rolled his eyes dramatically and paused when he spied her laptop.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

"Mhm,” he hummed.  He flipped the computer open with gusto and scanned through the desktop.  His brow arched when he found something.  Emma gaze followed his movements while he clicked through the documents.  “Working on some new stuff?”

Emma leapt forward and slammed the computer shut.  It happened so fast, she didn’t even see him pull his weapon and hold it to her head.  Her hands dropped to her sides limply.  That was how Alec got the upper hand on her. 

“You’re gonna tell me exactly where your hard drive is, then I’m going to take you back to base,” he paused, and allowed that sickeningly sweet smile reappear.  “Then… We’ll see what the night has in store for us after that.  You’ve got some cute pajamas."

Emma could taste the bile rise from her stomach at the thought of Alec being alone with her.  She didn’t move, or speak.  Bad.  Bad.  This was very bad. 

He stood up and dug the tip of the gun into her scalp. 

“You know how much I hate repeating myself Em,” he growled. His finger danced on the trigger and he began to breath a little heavier.  This was it.  This was every nightmare she’d had, all summed up into one terrible morning. 

The tension was thick between the pair.  Emma didn’t dare make any sudden movements and Alec couldn’t risk having her killed without the files. 

It was so quiet; Emma could hear Steve shuffling around his apartment.  Oblivious to the chaos that was about to ensue within hers.  It was a cruel twist of irony that she’d die a few feet away from the hero.

 _The Avengers. Of course._ She could have sobbed in excitement at the thought. 

“If I die, the information on the hard drive gets sent straight to the Avengers,” she wasn’t entirely sure where the surge of confidence came from, but it was enough to make the bluff convincing.  “That wouldn’t bode to well for your little club, would it?" 

Alec’s expression shifted from confusion to fury.  He kicked over a chair and kept the gun trained on her.  Intimidation.  She made a mental check and moved onto her next step.

It was a calculated move on Emma’s part, and if it failed she was probably going to die. 

“They’re not going to make it nice for you, you’re going to suffer,” he hissed, his voice rising in anger. 

Emma backed away slowly.  _Noise_.  She needed more noise.  

“You don’t need to listen to them,” she started, studying his shaking hands carefully.  “We’ve been through so much…” she trailed off while he contemplated the thought.

Her hand was still clutched around the frying pan, and in an instant it flew through the air and hit him in the center of his forehead. 

He pulled his trigger in surprise and Emma moved quickly enough to duck behind her kitchen counter. 

 _Hopefully_ , she prayed with her eyes squeezed shut, _that should be enough_.

"You bitch!” he snapped, his footfalls moved closer to Emma’s hiding place. 

She scrambled through a nearby counter for something to defend herself but found only empty boxes of cereal.   It wasn’t until she stuck her arm in deeper and nicked the tips of her fingers that she found a large chef’s knife. 

She promised herself that she’d reorganize the kitchen if she survived. 

Alec taunted her while he walked closer, which allowed her to gauge his distance with each insult.

“Emma?” a third voice joined the party and Emma finally released the breath she’d held.  Steve heard the noise.  Thank goodness for Captain America. 

“He has a gun!” she shouted before Alec opened fire on the hero.  She hoped the warning was enough for Steve to evade the attack.  When the gunshots died out, she could hear the sounds of fist-fighting before silence fell over the apartment again. 

Emma didn’t move.  She kept her eyes shut and her hand clutched around the knife handle.  She was ready to attack whoever came around the kitchen counter, and when a body appeared next to her, she swung.

Fortunately, Steve caught her wrist before she could do any damage and Emma opened her eyes.  Seeing the blonde kneeling next to her was the best thing that had happened so far that day. 

“Good morning,” she mumbled in relief.  “I see you met my ex.”

* * *

Steve placed a few phone calls and helped Emma tidy-up her apartment after Alec was hauled away by a pair of SHIELD agents. 

They worked in silence until he replaced her kitchen chair and finally brought the subject up.  It was inevitable, but that didn’t mean Emma had to be happy about it.

“Alec Reynolds is a high ranking HYDRA agent,” he began, scanning over Emma cautiously.  “And he wants you dead.”

“ _His boss_ ,” she corrected quietly.  She fidgeted with the bottom of her tshirt and tried to avoid eye contact after interrupting him. 

“I’m sorry?” he arched a brow and sat down at the table.  

“His boss wants me dead,” she clarified.  Emma moved toward him, but was too embarrassed to sit down.  Instead, she clutched onto the top of her kitchen chair awkwardly.  This would be her shield during his questions. 

“Why is that?” Steve spoke slowly, as he tried to pry the information from her.  She bit her lip and shook her head.  This was insane.

“It’s complicated,” she began before grabbing her laptop and setting it up in front of him.  As her body went through the motions, she rambled to him.  “My book is…" 

“Very good, actually," he finished the sentence, to her surprise.  He smiled and allowed her to finish her thought, but her ego had gotten the best of her.

“You read it?” she looked astonished that he would actually take the time to read it.  He gave a small shrug. 

“It seemed relevant to my work,” he joked.  Emma allowed a small grin to escape before she focused back on her computer. 

“It’s obviously about HYDRA and SHIELD,” she explained, her confidence increasing and he nodded knowingly.  “I got a lot of the information from the file dump that Natasha Romanov put online.  While I was working on the book, Alec got a little edgy anytime I mentioned the leak.” 

She clicked a few files she had saved on her computer and pulled them up.  

“As it turned out, my dear boyfriend wasn’t the agent of SHIELD he’d told me he was,” she pulled up Alec Reynolds file and watched Steve look it over.  She’d never told anyone this secret, but she felt that if anyone would keep quiet, it would be the super-soldier across from her. 

“That’s what Maria sent me tonight,” he confirmed and she nodded.  

“Needless to say, I had a few options,” she explained.  Emma turned around and started digging through her bookshelf.  She grabbed a handful of large books and tossed them onto her sofa.  He watched with amusement once she started pulling large pieces of the books out of the binding.  After doing a quick count of the files, she passed them off to Steve. 

“I got nosy,” she admitted with a sigh.  “Which, in hindsight might have been a terrible idea, considering my er, _boyfriend_ , at the time was killing people in the name of a Nazi science organization.  I probably should have just called Tony Stark or something and spilled the beans.”

But she’d been scared.  Emma Miller was a coward and no matter the protection the authorities could have granted her, a small part of her mind reminded her that HYDRA had grown undetected for decades.  No where was safe.  No one was safe.

He sifted through the first few pages of paperwork, his expression pulled in concentration.  Emma wasn’t sure what to do with herself, so she kept talking out of nervousness after she sat down across from him.            

“Alec wasn’t happy, but HYDRA was weakening.  After the base in Sokovia was taken down, he disappeared.  I assumed he was dead,” she paused when Steve looked up at her for an instant.  “So I published.”

 _'Wasn’t happy’_ was the understatement of the century, but Emma wasn’t going to tell Steve Rogers about how Alec nearly killed her when he found her looking through his computer.

The memory hit her like a wave and she absently traced her fingers around her neck, where the large bruise had resided for weeks.

“None of this was in your book,” he finally finished and studied Emma’s reaction. 

“I know,” she nodded and sat down across from him at the table.  “It was a lot of source material for the sequel, but I never got the nerve to send those chapters to my editor.  As it eventually turned out, Alec wasn’t dead.” 

“Neither was HYDRA,” Steve finished the thought for her and she nodded sullenly, her stomach sank. 

“Alec approached me at an event downtown when I started touring, he made a scene and made me promise to destroy anything I had,” she leaned back into the chair and frowned. 

He’d nearly shoved her off of the top of a parking garage, if she recalled correctly, biting down this information from her companion. 

“You didn’t,” Steve looked at the paperwork and Emma let out a tense, choked, laugh. 

“I did not,” she agreed.  “I made physical copies and ripped everything I could off of his computer.  Emails, plans, whatever I could get my hands on.  Someone broke into my apartment a few days after our altercation and surprise, the computer was the only thing stolen.”

She’d been ready to run for days after this.  She’d called a few friends, pulled a few favors and had decided to move up the dates of her European tour.  There was one last appearance for the Today Show before she was supposed to board a plane. 

“This is pretty extensive,” Steve frowned, thumbing through the files again.  “Did Alec contact you after he stole the computer?”

He hadn’t directly, Emma admitted to herself.  But she knew he was involved in the incident outside of the studio.  Her stubbornness had cost four people their lives, and injured numerous others including herself. 

It’d been called a technical error.  Which she believed until she woke up the second morning in the hospital with with a card folded into her hand.

_Cut off one head, two more shall take its place._

“Emma?” Steve reached out to touch the top of the author’s hand. 

She let out a shout of surprise and pulled her hand away.  Her chest tightened and she could fell a wave of panic collapsing around her. 

“Emma,” Steve repeated her name firmly, trying to pull her back.  “You’re safe here.  No one is going to hurt you.” 

“He found me,” she murmured.  It was true.  She’d done so much to disappear, to protect herself and others from Alec and his team.  It meant nothing now.  If he could find her here, he could find her anywhere.  “If my neighbor wasn’t Captain _freaking_ America, I’d be dead.  We both know it.”  

She took Steve’s silence as agreement.  Her finger traced over a line in her table.  Steve lifted a piece of paper off of his pile of files and frowned when he set it back down. 

“HYDRA is back in Manhattan,” he finally spoke.  

“That’s clear,” she muttered sharply.  “I imagine they’re pretty worried about the Winter Soldier and his friends.” 

That was Alec’s mission.  Protect the Siberian base at all costs.  Protect the assets, because Captain America corrupted their main assassin. 

“They’re dead,” he replied.  He ran a hand through his blonde hair.  “This guy, Zemo…” 

“Zemo?” she repeated, tasting the familiar name.  “Helmut Zemo?”  It was a shot in the dark, but that was the only Zemo she knew of. 

What were the chances? 

“You know him?” Steve’s eyebrows shot up.  Emma could see the suspicion settle in his eyes.  This looked bad.  What had the man done?

“My father,” Emma explained with a wave of her hand.  “He did a few tactical rounds for the Air Force during the Sokovian conflict a few years back.  He was an old family friend.  Haven’t heard from him since- _oh_.” 

“You need to pack anything important, right now,” Steve’s voice shifted to urgency as he pieced together the information Emma had given him.  “Do you still have the hard drive?”

“It’s hidden away, far from here, but it's safe,” she explained and he nodded.

“We need to go get it,” he stood up and grabbed the physical copies of the files.  With one swift movement, they were in her trashcan and he searched through her drawers for something.   “Matches?”

“Left of the fridge,” Emma responded automatically.  She remained in her seat, frozen at his actions.  These files and her hard drive were the only reasons HYDRA would leave her alive, at least for the time being.

“We can’t have a paper trail,” he explained before dropping a lit match into the container.  “And you need to disappear.”

"What do you think I’ve been doing?” she shook her head and played with a piece of her dark hair.  She didn’t want to leave.  Or maybe she did?  Emma Miller didn’t know what was safe anymore. 

Her hands shook when she set them in her lap and looked to her companion. 

"I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Steve promised.  He knelt down next to her and touched the top of her hands.  “Emma, you have my word.”

What was so touching about the moment, Emma frowned, was that she was going to cry like a child at his words.  She hadn’t felt safe in months, but this man who she barely knew, was willing to take down her ex.  He was willing to help her get the revenge she’d wanted for so long. 

Alec Reynolds and HYDRA had controlled so many aspects of her life.  He’d pulled her away from her family, manipulated her, lied to her, and when Emma tried to break free, he tried to kill her.

“Ok,” she nodded, her lips were pulled tight as she spoke.  It was a hell of a chance, but how many chances was she going to get to end this once and for all.  “We’ll get the hard drive.”

* * *

 


	4. Colors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I wanted to get this out quickly, so the editing was a little rough, sorry!   
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

“ _That_ ,” Sam gestured to the locked bathroom door where Emma stood on the other side, hyperventilating.  “ _-_ is a whole bunch of crazy I’m not ready to deal with this early in the morning.” 

“It’s been a while since she’d been this far from home,” Steve reasoned.  He’d anticipated a number of complications while they went to track down the hard drive, but Emma nearly passing out a block outside of their building was not one of them.   

So he suggested they sit down at a 24-hour café for a few minutes so she could get her bearings together.  Instead, she saw the crowd, panicked, and locked herself in the woman’s room. 

Steve didn’t know what else to do but call Sam, who’d been texting him throughout the whole ordeal in Emma’s apartment.  The flying Avenger was able to meet them an hour after Steve contacted him, just as the sun was starting to peak over the horizon. 

“And you’re going where?  Detroit?” Sam flagged down the barista who had just finished cleaning a nearby table and ordered three coffees.  “You know that’s like, three, four states away right?”

“Baby steps,” Steve grunted.  He shot another glance at the bathroom and saw the situation hadn’t changed at all.  The door was still locked and another patron was waiting angrily outside of it.

“You need to get her a Xanax or some pot,” Sam suggested with a smirk.  “You guys were planning on driving too?  Terrible idea, Rogers.”

“We can’t exactly board a domestic flight,” Steve reminded him for the third time since his friend sat down.  “And I don’t think Tony is quite at the point where I can start asking for jets.”

He didn’t need Sam to point out each flaw in Steve’s plan to move Emma out of the city.  Every decision he’d made so far was based off of how far Emma could move without causing a scene or panicking. 

“I don’t know man,” Sam took a long drag of the black coffee placed in front of him.  “I think we should drop her off with Nat and deal with this ourselves.”

Steve would have liked that as well, aside from a minor detail. 

“She won’t tell me the specific location,” he admitted with a frown.  He fumbled with the lid of his coffee, trying to avoid Sam’s incredulous expression.

“She wouldn’t tell Captain America where her HYDRA hard drive is hidden?” he questioned for clarification.  Steve just nodded over his coffee and took a sip.  “This is sounding more and more shady.  Just saying.”

“I really don’t think Emma Miller is an international threat,” Steve simply noted.  As if right on cue, Emma finally emerged from the restroom to the scowl of the waiting woman.  On her shirt there was a small speck of vomit, which she noticed and quickly grabbed a handful of napkins to wipe off. 

Sam rolled his eyes and kept silent, ceding the argument to Steve. 

“Thanks,” she murmured when Sam handed her the coffee cup.  Her eyes darted around the café suspiciously, but at least she wasn’t jumping out of her skin at the presence of Steve’s friend. 

“Emma, this is Sam Wilson,” he introduced with a wave of his hand.  Steve found that the best way to handle Emma’s small panics was to keep his voice steady and make no indications of threats.  “He’s another Avenger.” 

She smiled meekly at Sam and apologized for the inconvenience.  

“I don’t do crowds,” she mumbled.  Sam snorted and grinned. 

“It’s 5 am,” Sam countered and she immediately reddened.  Steve kicked his friend’s leg under the table and he muttered a weak ‘sorry’.

“I wanted to get out of the city before people started get up and about and you would be missed by Alec’s friends,” Steve explained to Emma who rolled her bottom lip between her teeth.  He swore she was going to rip the skin open eventually, but neglected to comment on it.  They had other things to worry about.

“I still think you should call Stark,” Sam repeated.  He sent a look to Emma for support, in which the brunette author glanced at Steve questioningly. 

“Tony Stark?  Would he be able to help?” Her tone suggested that she’d seen the footage from the German airport.  Of course who was Steve kidding?  The tabloids couldn’t let it go for weeks after the dispute.  She’d definitely seen it.

“He did offer to work with you on this recent HYDRA business,” Sam hinted to the super soldier.  With both pairs of eyes watching him, Steve reluctantly pulled out his cell phone. 

 He was definitely going to regret this. 

Of course Tony answered on the first ring and began to chastise the soldier for not contacting him sooner. 

“I offer an olive branch and this is what I get?  I’m really hurt,” Tony mocked.  Steve could hear the hum of computers in the background of the line.  There was a chance Tony might have had more information than they did.   

“There’s just been a complicating variable,” Steve turned away from Sam and Emma, the latter of who was asking about Sam’s time in the Air Force. 

“Your little bookworm girlfriend, I heard,” Tony paused and clicked a few keys.  “Saw a few interviews a bit ago, she’s cute.” 

“She’s not my-,” Steve began loudly and flushed when Emma looked up in concern.  Sam drew her attention back toward him and they continued their chat.  “We need to get to Detroit.  As soon as possible.”

“And why is that?” Tony questioned slowly.  He really wanted Steve to draw this out, whether it was for personal amusement or petty revenge from their previous fight. 

“She has information on HYDRA, bases, future plans, previous plans,” Steve explained as quietly as he could.  “Stolen from her homicidal HYDRA ex-boyfriend.” 

“Hmm,” the genius mused for a moment before he clicked his tongue off of the roof of his mouth.  “I think it’s really neat that Helmut Zemo was an old friend of Jeffery Miller.” 

“And I think it’s really interesting that Alec Reynolds worked the Siberian base where the _other_ soldiers were being held,” Steve wanted to hang up at Tony’s comment, but held out.  He knew Emma wouldn’t be able to handle a multi-hour drive.  The traffic stops alone were risky, and he couldn’t have her hiding in the bathroom for hours every time they stopped. 

“Can she be trusted?” Tony finally questioned.  Steve could sense that the billionaire’s entire attention was now focused on this one particular inquiry. 

It was flattering to a certain degree that Tony held his opinion in high regard again.  Though it was entirely possible that Tony just didn’t want to be hurt.  Either way, Steve measured the threats of their small mission.

He watched Emma smile at one of Sam’s jokes, her body language loosening as the Avenger told her about the time he and Steve first met.  Sure, she was neurotic to all hell, but everyone had their demons.  She’d made some mistakes, and after seeing Alec, he was positive she was ready to pull herself forward.  How far, was the real question.

“I trust her.”

 Tony released a long held sigh and drummed his fingers on a metal surface. 

“Fine,” he sounded like he was still convincing himself as he spoke.  “Bring her by the compound upstate.  Think you can make it that far?”

The compound.  Steve did the math in his head and frowned.  That’d be a little over an hour and a half in the car.  They would need a hell of a distraction-

“Boom!” Sam slammed his hand on the table and all three of the group’s coffees went flying, much to the irritation of the barista. 

This might actually work. 

“See you soon.”

* * *

Steve was tense the entire ride to the compound.  If Emma wasn’t mumbling about some irrational fear, he worried about how he was going to handle Tony for an extended period of time.

His mind kept drifting to the possibility of the meeting being a trap for him and Sam, though he knew Tony wouldn’t have requested the author to join them if that were the case. 

But Steve had been wrong about Tony before. 

Sam had done an amazing job of alleviating all of Emma’s spoken fears about the car ride or their visit to the out-of-the-way location.  He talked her through her nervous ticks and assured her that no one was following them. 

When they fell silent, Steve saw that Emma had finally fallen into a deep sleep.  Sam leaned forward between the front seats and spoke to Steve quietly.

“How far out are we?” he questioned with a glance toward the empty highway in front of them.

 

“Twenty minutes, give or take,” Steve replied.  He kept his attention forward and tried to avoid eye contact with Sam as much as he could.  Steve knew his friend could sense the hesitation in him.

“Stark isn’t going to do anything,” Sam pointed out, as if he’d read Steve’s thoughts himself.  “We have the same enemy right now and you have the upper hand.  From a tactical standpoint, it’d be stupid.” 

“I wonder who’s going to be there,” Steve mused after a pause fell between them.  Clint had disappeared with Natasha for a while, before returning to the States and doing some off-the-book work with SHIELD.  Scott went back to his daughter, and the last he’d seen of Wanda, she’d been trying to find a place to live in Little Sokovia, just outside of Harlem. 

And Bucky… He was thousands of miles away in a frozen slumber.  That loss hurt Steve the most.  He’d only just gotten his best friend back, just to lose him again.  It wasn’t fair. 

But Steve wasn’t one to complain.  He hugged his friend, wished him luck and watched the ice form around the edges of Bucky’s containment pod.  Support and duty.  That’s all Steve knew. 

Steve had gotten so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t realize that he’d parked in front of the facility until Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“Ready?” the winged Avenger asked as Emma stirred from her sleep.  Steve watched the brown-eyed woman blink a few times before she sent a sleepy smile in his direction.

“As much as I will be,” he breathed and opened the door, his neighbor and his friend following after him. 

“So this is where Tony Stark has been hiding out,” Emma noted and she took in the massive building.  “He was supposed to host a few of my events, heard something about his girlfriend and a nasty breakup..." 

She didn’t say it out loud, but Steve could almost hear her say; _Didn’t realize it’d gotten this bad._  

Which was partially Steve’s fault.  If he’d been a better friend, a better teammate, Tony wouldn’t have suffered so much.  Hell, the genius had lost Bruce, Pepper and half of the Avengers within two years.  That was a lot for a normal person.

But Tony wasn’t just anyone. 

“Hello!” Speak of the devil and he shall come, Steve mused with a small wave to his former teammate.

“Stark,” Sam greeted with a curt nod.  He passed Tony and headed toward the compound while Emma fell back with Steve. 

“This is Emma Miller,” Steve watched Emma carefully during the introduction.  She seemed to have everything under control.  Maybe those who suffered found comfort in one another without even knowing? 

Tony took her hand and gave a grin.  

“It’s a pleasure,” he gave the top of her hand a small kiss and let it drop back to her side.  “I must say that your novel was absolutely inspiring.”

“Thank you,” Emma muttered.  Steve barely registered it, but her cheeks flushed a red color as Tony spoke.  Was the famous author finally star struck? He saw her took a breath and reposition her stance.  “It’s nice to finally meet you Mr. Stark, I was sorry to hear about your friend.  I hope all is well?”

 _That was a change_ , Steve noted with surprise.  For a moment, he saw an image of the confident woman who’d been present in a number of interviews and book signings.  It was no wonder the publishers pushed her into the public’s eye. 

Even her chitchat was mesmerizing.

"It’s as well as it could be,” Tony brushed the comment off and led Emma by the shoulder into the compound. 

At the touch, Steve saw all of her confidence get wiped away.  It was like night and day. 

“I hear you guys need to get to Detroit?” Tony asked as the trio made their way to the main level of the compound where Sam was chatting with Natasha.  “Want to tell the class what’s in Detroit, Emma?” 

Emma paled at the attention and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.  Desperately she looked to Steve who saved her from the embarrassment.

“A hard drive containing a significant number of recently unknown HYDRA files,” Steve clarified for Natasha and Tony.  “I’m fairly certainly that Emma is the connection between Zemo and HYDRA.” 

“Why is that?” Natasha eyed the new-comer with an icy gaze.  Emma shrunk toward Steve and sat down on a chair next to him. 

“Her father is former Air Force,” Sam explained with a smile toward Emma.  “Served in Sokovia during the civil crisis.  As it turned out, Helmut Zemo was very close with the Millers.”

“In fact,” Tony added and waved his hand in front of him.  A large computer screen was pulled up and showed a number of CCTV videos of Zemo in the conflict.  “Miller saved Zemo’s life on one occasion, isn’t that right Emma?”

Emma nodded slowly, her eyes watching her father’s face dance across the screen. 

“We ate dinner with him when we visited my father during his leave in Russia,” Emma added.  “That’s when my brothers and I met him.” 

“Jordan and Henry Miller,” Tony recited Emma’s family from a list in the corner of the screen.  He pulled pictures of each brother up and looked to Emma for confirmation. 

“Your father, Jeffery,” He pulled Emma’s father’s Air Force picture to the screen.  “And mother, Jennifer Miller.”

“You did your homework,” Natasha commented with a snort.  “Though I’m not sure why a walk through the Miller family tree is important to anything here.”

“Emma, what did Henry do for a living?” Tony questioned the author with an arched brow.  Steve turned his attention to the woman as well, curious to where he was going with this question. 

“I think he ended up in security,” she shrugged at the question.  “He ended up meeting some girl and moved outside of Sokovia after dad- _passed_.  Loved the country side, at least that’s what he said." 

“Class, raise your hand if you’re familiar with the terrorist organization known as the Watchdogs?” Tony looked to the group and only Sam and Natasha raised their hands, the latter rather hesitantly.  No one wanted to feed into Tony’s ego too much, Steve knew that from experience.

He and Emma looked at Tony in confusion until he pulled a video of a masked man shooting at a UN security operation.  He leapt a fence and entered a secured location before an explosion erupted behind him. 

“Emma,” Tony’s face had images of violence and explosions projected across it.  All eyes turned to Emma Miller, her hands shook as the realization of what Tony had pieced together hit her.  “Henry and Zemo were close.  They both wanted justice for their loses in the conflict.”

Emma shook her head. 

“Henry was in ballet and played chess,” she protested before a video of Henry and Zemo grinning with their arms across one-another’s shoulders appeared, machine guns around their backs.  “And Helmut had a _family_.” 

“His mother and sister died during the civil war,” Natasha quietly informed the writer, to Emma’s horror.  “He met his wife through the Watchdogs and retired when they started going after Inhumans.”

“Henry took care of us when-,” Emma looked at the strangers for any type of support before Tony finally pulled up SHIELD’s newest file on Henry Miller. 

“Emma, he’s _HYDRA_ ,” Tony gauged the woman for a reaction and Emma’s expression went inward.  Steve had seen so much from the anxious woman.  Fear, panic, anxiety, and that was only in the few weeks he’d known her. 

This was something else entirely.  She was impossible to read; her face didn’t expose any fear or doubt while she processed the information. 

Finally, to everyone’s surprise, she spoke.  Her voice even and calm.

“Does Henry know Alec Reynolds?”

“They’re known associates,” Tony read directly from the screen after cross-referencing the agents name.  “Located in Siberia around the same time as Sokovia crashing." 

With a look at Emma, Sam spoke up

“So we get it, everyone is evil and bad, Emma, you wanna go lay down?  This is a lot.”

Tony pulled the screens down and turned the lights back on in the room.

Steve wasn’t even sure what to say.  What did you say to someone who was played by their own family?

“That sounds nice,” Emma’s voice was almost robotic and Natasha hopped off of the edge of the couch to show the woman to an extra room. 

“Well, she’s not HYDRA at least,” Tony commented lightly, closing up his tablet.  He set it on the table and looked to Sam and Steve. 

“That was a little harsh,” Steve stood up and frowned.  “She has, god knows, going on in her head and you have to tell her that Alex Reynolds was a set-up from the get go?  By her brother, nonetheless?” 

“I _had_ to make sure she wasn’t on the inside,” Tony clarified, his tone going serious and is posture straightening.  “There’s only so much I could do without chemicals or Miss Romanov in an empty room.  I didn’t want anyone getting hurt.  Not on my watch.”

_Not again._

Was unspoken, but it lingered between the trio until Natasha returned.

“I hope the guest quarters weren’t important to you,” she informed Tony with a smirk playing on the corner of her lips.  “I don’t think you’re going to be able to fix the damage that’s happening to it.”

“If that isn’t karma, I don’t know what is,” Sam joked.  His reaction was met with a snort from Tony, who mumbled about moving her room after she settled down. 

Natasha was at Steve’s side and nudged him with her elbow with Sam and Tony bantered about the best price for a vase.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, scanning his features and reading his concern. 

Steve wasn’t sure how to vocalized his worries with Tony’s analysis of the situation.  There were a number of missing pieces and Steve wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

“Why’d Alec go after Emma if he and Henry were close?” he muttered.  “Zemo, he makes sense, he got close to Henry, got the information about Buck and got his revenge on us.  But Henry and Alec, it doesn’t seem so cut and dry.”

“Do you think your new friend knows more than she’s letting on?” Natasha’s expression shifted dangerously and Steve shook his head, quickly dismissing the idea.

“Not exactly,” he admitted with a pause.  “But she does know about Alec.  Why wouldn’t Henry’s name appear on any of the information?”

“Maybe he’s protecting a friend?” Natasha suggested.  “Or setting him up.” 

“Alec knew she’d eventually find out,” Steve looked toward the hallway where Emma’s room was tucked away.  Alec Reynolds wanted a reaction.  He wanted Emma to get angry, he wanted them to know about Zemo and the Millers.

The only thing Steve didn’t know, was why?

 


	5. Clean

* * *

 

 _It wasn’t all bad,_ Emma consoled herself.  She’d long tracked down a few bottles of champagne in the room’s fridge and locked herself in the bathroom.   _It could have been a lot worse._  She could have released a murder robot on an unsuspecting city.                                                    

She took a long pull from a bottle and leaned up against the bathroom door. 

It made sense.  It made _a lot_ of sense, actually.  Her and Henry hadn’t exactly parted on the best terms after their father died.  Emma had left for university, Jordan had gotten a job back home and their mother coped as well as she could, falling back into their community and giving back.  But Henry took it the hardest.  He’d grown isolated and would snap at every little thing.

Their mom tried everything she could to open him up, but to no avail.  If he was grieving, he was doing it in his own way.

He’d insisted on seeing the city where their father laid down his life, he wanted answers.  He was so angry.

Their mother paled at the news and Emma instantly started screaming at him, insisting that he’d find the same fate as their father.  They needed to stick together. 

Jordan had been silent the whole time, eventually storming out of the room by the time Emma and Henry were red in the face.

The exchange meant nothing in the end.  He left with bitter words and never returned a call or letter from her again.

Emma did know from time to time he’d get in contact with their mother, but it was so random no one ever held their breath when the mail truck arrived.

Life went on, Emma started writing for small time journals and participated in different political rallies on her college’s campus.  It apparently was no coincidence that she bumped into Alec Reynolds at one.  The world was in chaos.  Everyone had thought aliens and Nordic gods were the worse thing that could happen, but everyone had been wrong.

She raised the bottle to her lips again and was surprised to find it already empty. 

_What time was it?_

Her bottom had long fallen asleep after sitting on the hard floor and her hands had stopped shaking from the shock of it all.

She set the bottle aside and rolled onto her feet.  It took a few tries, but eventually her bottom half woke up and she was able to slide the bathroom door open. 

The sun was still shining through the window, though a bit lower than it was when she’d hidden herself.  The clock read 4:36 pm on her bedside and she plopped down onto the bed face first.

“You have a thing for bathrooms, you know that right?” Steve’s voice sounded from the other end of the room and Emma leapt up in surprise.  Her feet slipped on the smooth floor and she stumbled to the ground with a thud.

“Sorry,” he commented while he stood up and helped her off of the ground.  Emma took his hand with a mock-scowl and returned to her feet.  “Just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“Much better,” she sighed and shuffled a few broken pieces of a vase across the floor with her foot.  “I should probably write a check…”

Steve offered a chuckle before they both fell silent.  It was about as sufficiently awkward as Emma would have expected after her fit.  She kind of expected Stark and the Avengers to turn her on the front porch and send her on her way.  Yet here they were. 

“I know it’s not easy,” Steve began.  He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked to Emma, who stood by the broken vase and a partially ripped painting.  Emma had to admit, it certainly was an interesting scene for a pep-talk.  “Being lied to, cheated.  It’s not easy.  But don’t let them win, Emma.”

She kind of expected a little more from the star-spangled hero; she still felt like crap.

“Seems like they’ve got a pretty good lead in this game,” Emma backed up toward the bed and sat back down.  “HYDRA and idiot brother-7, Emma Miller-0." 

Steve walked toward her and sat down on the bed next to her.

“You also stole some important secrets from them, survived whatever Alec has thrown at you and got this far,” he reasoned and Emma rolled her eyes.  “I’d say that’s pretty impressive for someone who got lost a block from her apartment two weeks ago because of a panic attack.”

Emma snorted under her breath and fell backwards onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.  If it was so impressive, why couldn’t she go grocery shopping without sobbing next to some bananas?  Why did these assholes control every aspect of her life?  Why was she so scared?

“It takes a lot to take on a group like HYDRA,” Steve spoke toward her on cue, as if she’d spoken her fears out loud.  “They destroy hope and build on fear.  Trust me.  No one is invincible." 

Emma pondered the wisdom a moment before she rolled on her side to get a better look at her neighbor. 

“How do you do it?” she asked quietly.  He looked confused by the question so she clarified.  “How are you so strong?  And I don’t mean physically, I mean _mentally_ … _Emotionally_ …  I’ve read the files, seen the news.  What these people have done to you… it’s been decades.”

Steve looked genuinely caught off guard by the observation and he hesitated in finding an answer.

“I wish I could tell you,” he replied with a sheepish smile.  “Maybe I’m just too stubborn to roll over for a bunch of bullies." 

“Don’t you get scared?” she blurted out.  Emma mentally slapped herself at the invasive question, knowing full well that it was the booze that was making her so nosy. 

“ _Everyday_ ,” he admitted in a soft tone.  “It’s hard when you have people and things to lose, it’s even harder after you’ve lost them.  You just have to keep fighting, keep pushing until the bad guys stop pushing back.” 

Emma was propped up on her elbow at this point, she watched his face shift from pain to the soft expression she knew so well.  Steve Rogers was an enigma.

In an interview from the 1960s, Peggy Carter had told a reporter that Steve Rogers hated bullies.  Emma had taken that quite literally as a child in her fifth grade social studies class where they watched a documentary about the World War 2 hero.  Captain America was a small man made powerful by a serum, so it was no wonder he had issues with bullies growing up.

Emma had chalked the comment as an observation from the famous spy and nothing more.  _But lord_ , had she been wrong. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered absently, which earned her a look of puzzlement from Steve.  “Your friends, everything.  I’m sorry.  It’s not fair that you keep getting dragged back into this.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Steve murmured with a frown, his gaze drifting to the far wall in front of him.  “Things happen." 

“Yeah,” she agreed lightly as she set a hesitant hand on his knee.  “But maybe if I’d made better choices I could have lessened the load a bit this time." 

Steve didn’t get a chance to respond before Natasha had poked her head into the room and looked over at the pair. 

“Clint picked up some dinner,” she informed the pair, a smile threatening to play on her features.  “You really did a number on the room.  I’m a little impressed.”

Emma pulled her hand away at the intrusion and felt her cheeks burn.  Why did she feel like she’d been caught with her high school boyfriend after prom?

“We’ll be right there,” Steve stood up and smiled to Emma while he offered up a hand.  “We’re both probably due for some food, huh?" 

“Yeah,” she mumbled, hopping to her feet.  The tension of their previous conversation had barely melted away, and yet here he was, as pleasant as always.  “Food sounds good.”

* * *

 

 “Should I bill you personally or send an inquiry to your publishing agency?” Tony questioned the author over a slice of pizza.  “When you trash a hotel room, what’s your normal policy?” he grinned at the brunette and took a bite of his dinner.

Emma allowed a small laugh and grabbed a few slices for herself.  

“Can’t say I’ve ever trashed a hotel _room_ ,” she chuckled.  “Though I’ve rented out hotel _floors_ before…" 

It wasn’t a complete lie.  After the first set of numbers for her book came back, she celebrated with anyone who answered their phone that night.  It started out small enough with a banquet dinner and formal thank yous, and ended the next morning in the hotel penthouse.  The bill at the end of the night was outrageous due to the damage her and her guests had done, but her editor and publicist had settled it quietly.  That was, after a lengthy conversation about responsibility in the public eye.  

“So I heard,” Tony laughed.  “I owned the hotel you trashed.” 

“That’s embarrassing,” Emma grumbled through a few bites of pizza.  “Don’t you own my movie rights too?  Should just take it out of the general fund.”

“And here I thought you never talked with your publisher,” Tony countered lightly.  “Technically Pepper owns your movie rights; I just get the money when _Poker Face_ is massively successful." 

“Wait until I publish my biography,” Emma replied quickly, reaching for another slice of pizza.  “Though I’m sure you’ve been working on those rights since yesterday.”  Clint nearly choked on his food at the small comment and Natasha looked between the pair for another reaction.

Emma was thankful she’d tracked the champagne down in the room.  It was making the entire meal significantly more bearable.  She almost felt normal.  No anxiety, no worry.  She was actually able to joke about everything that had happened in the last day. 

“It’s just business,” Tony countered with a raise of his glass that Emma mimicked with a smirk.

“When are we heading to Detroit?” Sam asked the group after the back and forth between Emma and Tony ended. 

“Tonight,” Tony replied.  He set down his food and waved a hand in front of him pulling up schematics of a jet.  “Shouldn’t take more than an hour or so, depending on where our dear author has hidden the drive." 

“It’s at my old house,” she explained while she swallowed her food.  She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and looked to a map of the city Tony had pulled up, pointing to the neighborhood it was located in.  “There’s a shed in the backyard, I hid it in the flooring.” 

“Seems a little obvious, doesn’t it?” Natasha piped up when Tony typed in the address Emma gave him. 

“I never told Alec I was born in Detroit,” she replied.  “It made sense at the time.  I was visiting Jordan after-,” she paused and frowned.  “As long as Henry didn’t tell him specifics, it shouldn’t be too easy to track down from an outsider’s perspective.”

It was the only house that their entire family lived in at once.  The family was constantly moving in and out of neighborhoods throughout the state, before finally settling near the heart of the Detroit.  Jordan had just been born, her father was finally stationed stateside and Henry hadn’t even started high school yet.  It was a short period of time, but Emma remembered it being her happiest.  

“It also isn’t necessarily inside of the house,” Sam pointed out and Emma nodded.  “Does anyone live there now?” 

Emma looked at Sam in confusion and frowned. 

“You’ve never been to that area have you?” she questioned him and was met with raised eyebrows when she looked to Steve.  “We had to move because a fire took out half the neighborhood.  It’s been marked for demolition for like ten years now.  It’s doing better now, but things were getting pretty bad.” 

It was the peak of time before mayoral scandals, corruption and the city claiming bankruptcy.  It wasn’t perfect, but for Emma it was always home.

Even after all of these years, her mother and brother stilled lived within the city.  Home was home.

* * *

 

After eating, everyone went off to complete their own projects while Emma pulled out her laptop and flipped through the files she had saved. 

She didn’t even notice Tony hover over her shoulder, watching everything she did with interest.

“If you’d like,” he spoke up and startled the author.  “I can run a swept on your computer.  Make sure no one is tracking anything."

Emma looked up at him over her shoulder and nodded. 

“That’d be really nice,” she forced a smile, despite her heart beating against her chest.  “Thank you.”

He lingered a moment before stepping away, only to return a few minutes later. 

“The explosion after the Today Show,” he started and Emma felt the wind get knocked out of her.  Of course he knew about that.  Tony Stark knew everything.  Tony Stark owned a part of her intellectual property.  He probably dug up everything about her the minute her book crossed his desk.  “That wasn’t an accident was it?” 

Emma folded her laptop shut and stared at the ground in front of her a moment before answering.  She looked around the room, suddenly conscious of who might be listening to the confession.  

“It wasn’t,” she confirmed in a low voice.  “I don’t know who actually did it, but I know in some way it was HYDRA.”

“How would you know that?” he asked, lowering his voice to the same level as hers and leaning toward her.  

“Someone left me a present,” she held a hand up and dug through her backpack.  Finally, she found her wallet and pulled the small card out.  The red ink was just as vibrant as it’d been six months ago.  “I was unconscious a day and a half and woke up with this in my hand.”

Tony flipped the card over a few times and ran his fingertips over the lettering. 

“Did you tell Steve?”

“It never came up,” she answered quickly.  She was not going to admit to _another_ meltdown.  “I’m not hiding anything, I promise.”

“Sounds like something someone who has something to hide, would say,” Tony mused before he flashed the card at her again. “Can I keep this?" 

Emma nodded and he tucked it into his back pocket. 

“This Alec guy,” he continued, to Emma’s dismay.  “Huge jerk?” 

“You have no idea.”

He touched the top of her shoulder and Emma flinched instinctively, nearly knocking her laptop to the ground. 

“I have an idea,” he said with a frown.  “You always so jumpy?”

“People pointing guns at me within the last few hours kind of does that to me,” she replied dryly.  Emma wished she could read his mind while he studied her.  “I’m also very tired.”  Which wasn’t too much of a stretch.  She hadn’t slept a full night since Alec appeared at her apartment the morning before.

“Then you should get a nap in before we go,” he suggested firmly with a wave of his hand.  “Had your room tided up, so you should be all set.  I can clean up your laptop while your gone.” 

Emma had a feeling that she wasn’t allow to say no and incur more of the billionaire’s suspicion.  She was already tired of Natasha and Clint’s glances of doubt in her direction and wasn’t looking for someone else to join their club. 

She passed her device off to the him without much grandeur and shuffled back toward her room.  Emma wasn’t stupid.  She knew he was going to look through every inch of that laptop.  If that’s what it took for him to trust her, so be it. 

 She just hoped she could wake up and have this all be a nightmare. 

As promised, the guest room was spotless.  She glanced in the fridge and saw it had been restocked as well.  She debated cracking open another bottle before bed, but a yawn escaped her before she made a decision. 

Emma melted into the mattress and closed her eyes.  It was so quiet here.  She was used to hearing her neighbors or passing cars on the street.  She wondered what Steve was doing.  A part of her couldn’t believe they were going to let her come along the mission, while another part was curious if the whole team was going to come along.

It seemed like a lot of man power for such a small thing.  In fact, at any point Steve could tell the team the specifics of what the hard drive contained.  He had seen the physical copies after all. 

Her mind tried to piece together everything, but her rationality had washed away the moment she hit the bed.

Before she knew it, Emma slipped into a deep sleep. 

She dreamt of her old neighborhood and Jordan’s little league games.

And before she woke, she had her father envelop her in one last hug and assure her that things were going to be okay. 


	6. Castle

* * *

It'd been a long 48 hours, yet Steve had no intention to fall asleep.  He'd only meant to shut his eyes and relax for a moment before continuing his mission preparations.

Black and white.  His mind swirled back through his adventures with the team like an old silver-screen movie.  
  
Yet before he knew it, he was back in 1945.  Bucky was laughing and slapping him in the back.  Peggy sent a coy smile over a map of Europe during a meeting.  Dum-Dum thrust a beer into his hands during a stop outside of Berlin.  
  
It was laughter.  It was light.  It was warm.  A sepia of sorts…  
  
But the darkness came.  Screams.  Bucky fell off of the train.  His face, masked and his hair long, whispered to Steve.  
  
_It's your fault.  You should have saved me._  
  
Peggy's voice over the radio..  
  
_Steve, there has to be another way._  
  
Ice bit at his skin and when he tried to pull away, he found a metal hand gripped around his jugular  
_  
Your fault.  Save me Steve.  Steve._

Black and white…  
  
" _Steve_ ," a calm voice called out from the cold.  "Steve, wake up."  
  
It shattered the ice and his lungs cleared.  
  
He gasped, his eyes flying open and scanning the room around him.  It was pitch black, and a concerned shadow stood next to him.  
  
"I was worried," Emma’s voice began, she looked him with worry etched across her features.  "I heard shouting and the door was open..." She trailed off and looked around the room.   It didn't take a lot of imagination to know that she was probably blushing.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled.  
  
"You're fine," he replied.  Steve started to sit up, only realizing how much he'd sweated during the nightmare when he touched the back of his head.  "Just a bad dream."  
  
His eyes had adjusted to the light and he was able to see Emma's expression more clearly.  She tried to give a comforting smile and paused.  
  
"Do you have those a lot?"  
He frowned.  He did have nightmares often, though they hadn't been so intense in years.  Since he’d awoken from the ice.  
  
"No," he lied and she shook her head.  She tried her best to muffle a chuckle, but it escaped.  
  
"You're an awful liar," she laughed at his reaction and folded her arms across her chest.  "We still have some time before its wheels up, you could try sleeping a little more."  
  
"I shouldn't have fallen asleep in the first place.  I have mission prep to do..." He started to list off every detail that needed to be completed before they left the compound-  
  
"Steve, were landing at Detroit metro and taking a taxi to my old neighborhood," she quickly cut him off and stumbled over her words when she realized what she'd done. "It's not that intense."  
  
But it was, he wanted to argue.  He needed a plan in case HYDRA was waiting.  He needed a plan in case Emma broke down, or Tony abandoned them.  
  
"It's going to be fine.  I did this alone a few months ago," she reminded him quietly.  "I promise.  Nothing is going to happen.  It'll be easy as pie."  
  
He hated that he didn't know the physical layout of the neighborhood very well.  He hated how blind sided he'd been by this whole thing.  
  
That is where his mind went while Emma stood by his bed trying to comfort him.  
  
"You need to get out of your head," she finally stated before aimlessly ruffling his hair and turning to leave.  
  
The motion shifted something in him and he felt an overwhelming feeling of irony surround the situation.  It was too much.  
  
He started laughing.  
  
"What?" She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at the now snickering Avenger.  
  
"I just..." He gathered his composure and looked at the waiting woman.  Her eyebrow was arched in curiosity and he coughed to give himself another second.  "It's nothing Emma."  
  
"Okay," she seemed unconvinced, but she gave a small wave over her shoulder before parting the room.  "I'm going to be..." She didn't even finish the sentence before disappearing into the hallway.  It was probably better that way.  
  
Steve now sat up straight in his bed and exhaled a long breath after a glance at the clock. 

He had an hour to finish all of his preparations.  Fantastic.

* * *

 

“So you _pull_ the trigger and boom,” Clint held up a small gun to Emma who eyed it nervously.  Steve had just walked into the jet bay into the conversation and grabbed the gun before it could be handed off to the nervous author.

“You are not giving her a gun,” he passed it back to the archer and snorted back laughter.  If going unannounced to this unfamiliar neighborhood wasn’t dangerous enough, giving firepower to the most neurotic woman he’d ever met was even worse. 

“Gotta go with Cap on this one,” Sam shouted from the entryway of the jet.  He was helping Nat with a few last minute adjustments to equipment before jogging his way over.  Sam understood, even if Emma was frowning at both of them.  “Probably a _bigger_ security risk than bringing an untrained civilian on a mission.”

“Hey, I was just trying to help,” Clint pouted before tucking the weapon away.  He was called away by Black Widow from the inside of the jet and hurried off with a small wave.

“Everyone’s coming, huh?” Emma tried start a conversation after the uncomfortable encounter and both men paused.  If Steve calling Emma hadn’t been sufficiently awkward before, the fact she was attempting to change the subject made it worse.

“It’s not that we don’t-,” Steve began and she shook her head with a smile.

“Oh trust me, I had no intention of carrying that thing,” she stated, to the relief of both himself and Sam.  “God, could you imagine?  I’ll keep my pen as my sword for now.”

He and Sam shared a laugh before his friend slapped him on the shoulder and told him it was time to board.  Then it was just the the two of them.

“You didn’t say anything about…” Steve stumbled over words.  Emma just smiled warmly at him.  His stomach did a flip at the new expression, lacking any fear or worry that was normally present in her eyes. 

“That’s your business Steve,” she replied.  “It’s not my place to share.  Though I’m,” she coughed after choking on her own words and looked back him.  “You can always talk to me.  You know, about _things_.”

It was a bold offer for someone who couldn’t even come to terms with her shitty ex-boyfriend, but Steve was flattered regardless.  It was habit of Emma’s to shift attention back to others when her own problems came to light, and tonight was all about Emma Miller.

He didn’t get a chance to respond before Tony cut into the conversation and pulled Emma away toward the jet.  The billionaire was asking her about a specific of her novel as it pertained to HYDRA and she was answering the best she could.

Detroit wasn’t very far away.  They’d be back before he even knew it. 

* * *

 

Steve had told the taxi to wait a few blocks over to protect their approach.  He didn’t want to risk the driver having information on them when HYDRA inevitably followed behind.

Tony and Sam were doing circles of the neighborhood from above, but it seemed like Emma’s accounts had been correct.  Nearly every house on the block had been burnt to a crisp and the neighborhood was all but abandoned. 

Steve was honestly impressed the author so easily tracked down the older home.

The neighborhood was eerily quiet when Steve and Emma approached the burnt shell of a house. 

“The old _stomping ground_ ,” she tried to joke with a nudge to her neighbor, but looked at the weed-covered sidewalk after the joke fell flat.

“The hard drive is in the shed?” he asked and Emma nodded quickly.  A small crack of noise down the street made both of them tense before Emma dismissed it as a normal occurrence at that time of night.  ‘ _Fireworks_ ,’ she mumbled, despite it being well into August.

While the they walked to the back of the house, Steve couldn’t help but notice the overall ruin of the city around them.  When he’d gone under, Detroit was a thriving metropolis.  The war had resurged the auto-factories and the population had been booming.  Every pilot he’d met in Europe bragged about how they’d gotten their B-24 fresh off of the assembly plant at Willow Run.

This wasn’t what he imagined after they’d landed at Detroit Metro. 

Emma, however, seemed completely unfazed by the disorder of the neighborhood and pushed her way through some weeds to a door in the fence.  She reached around and pulled a small lock and the wooden door opened with ease. 

“Mom told Henry to fix that a million times,” she commented off hand with an awkward chuckle.  “Glad he didn’t.  Though I’m sure you’d be able to, argh, never mind.”

The backyard looked relatively untouched, aside from some aging.  It looked like the fire had stopped before it ate up the yard and while Emma aimlessly touched a rope swing, Steve scanned the perimeter for threats.

“Our next house didn’t have a swing,” Emma smiled and tossed the swing in the air.  She stomped a small path through the overgrown grass toward a sun damaged shed in the back of the yard.  “I was so mad.” 

When she failed to pull the lock on the shed open, Steve stepped up with his shield and knocked the rusted lock off with ease. 

The doors opened with no amount of fan fair and Emma waited for Steve to flip his flashlight on before they entered. 

“The back corner,” she instructed with a glance at the abandoned tool shed.  Her eyes settled on a small clay ashtray while she waved Steve toward the correct direction of the hard drive.  “The wood flooring should pull up, I put it in one of those weather-proof safes.”

Sure enough, when Steve ripped the wood up, a small grey safe was waiting on the ground below. 

“Everything will be on there, won’t it?”

“Yep,” she pocketed a few trinkets off of the work desk and broke open a picture frame with a smiling family in it.  After pushing the glass away, she folded it and tucked it into her jacket.  “Hopefully it should help you guys with whatever is happening in New York.”

She hadn’t noticed Steve staring at her intently as she ran her fingers over a worn hammer hanging from the wall.  There was nothing he wanted more than to be able to read her thoughts in that moment.  What memory was she reliving?  How many times had the family used the tool to fix something in the now decrepit house. 

“We should get going, before we’re noticed,” Steve cleared his throat and Emma nearly jumped.  She wiped at her face with her sleeve before turning to face him. 

“Of course,” she sighed and followed him out of the shed.  She closed its doors and despite lacking a lock, she wedged a small piece of wood into the locking mechanism.  It was a silly gesture, but Steve knew the small shed’s significance to Emma. 

 The whole property probably had years of memories for the author, it was no wonder she choose it as the hiding place for the stolen HYDRA information.

“So,” she began once they’d started their return to the taxi.  “I did kind of neglect to tell you all about something.”

 Steve froze.  Of course.  It was bound to happen.  She was tied with HYDRA.  Of course there would be lies. 

 He braced for an assault from unseen HYDRA agents, but the night remained still and quiet.  It was just the two of them on the empty street.

“The hard drive,” she fumbled with the strap on the safe before meeting her gaze with Steve’s.  “The information is the _original_.  HYDRA wants it because it has a lot of nasty stuff in it.  Programs and experiments that they can’t replicate unless they have…” she mumbled off and sent a small knock on the grey case. 

He felt like the world's biggest idiot.  Emma Miller, HYDRA agent?  He needed a nap or something when they got back.

“That’s why Alec wanted to scare you,” Steve realized, speaking slowly.  She nodded. 

“I was honestly convinced he was going to kill me,” she admitted in a low voice, her face pulling into a cringe.  “But, if I was dead, I guess he’d have no way to get to the files.  I’m sorry about all this.”

Steve shifted on his heels and looked at the sky.  Maybe Sam would spell out the right thing to say, Falcon always knew what to say to Emma.  There was just no nice way to say thank you for dating a psychopath without sounding genuinely insincere. 

But it was the truth.  Without Emma having been attacked by Alec, they would have been months behind HYDRA.  Sure, Tony had his leads, but it would have taken weeks to follow up on. 

“Don’t be sorry,” he finally said before he took the heavy case and carried himself.  “It all worked out and I’m not going to let HYDRA touch a hair on your head."

“Just the hair?” she teased, the walls coming down a bit while they walked.  Steve fell into a banter with her.

“You do have pretty nice hair,” he laughed and tugged the back of her brunette ponytail absently.  She pushed him away playfully and snorted back laughter on the way back to the taxi. 

Maybe things weren’t as simple as _black and white_. 

At the end of the road, the sun was just beginning to rise over the city. 

An explosion of colors erupted once the pair made their way back to the airport.  

At the passing graffiti and the backdrop of sunlight, it was no wonder Emma was still drawn to Detroit.  It was broken, like she was, but there was still beauty in the hope that held it together.


	7. Flicker

Tony wasn’t sure if he was relieved or annoyed that he didn’t find anything on Emma’s laptop.  He’d hoped, that he would have been able to track down something connecting Emma more fully to HYDRA than a deranged ex, but he found nothing. 

Well, aside from the first ten chapters of her next book, that, and two carefully labelled folders; _Police Reports_ and _Wedding Planning._  

As it turned out, Emma was engaged to the scumbag before the whole helicarrier ordeal in DC.  She’d buried the folder deep into her computer, even deleting it a few months back, but Tony found it.  The same went for the scanned copies of domestic disturbance reports.  There were four total, and it went back to a few months before DC.  He had to have gotten a little edgy after things went downhill.

The fights clearly got more brutal, and though Emma never directly called the police, she saved the reports for the future.  Smart kid.  Thankfully there were only a handful, and by the last one, Alec Reynolds had fled town as a wanted agent of HYDRA, right around the time the Avengers had found Loki’s Staff.

Tony couldn’t blame Emma for publishing after all of that.  It must have given her the greatest sense of control after taking HYDRAs secrets and throwing them into the limelight.  More so than Natasha could have ever done. 

No one wanted to dig through dated documents; Emma made it _compelling_.  Tony knew for a fact that google searches of HYDRA surged after the book hit the bestseller’s list. 

Corruption never got old.

Of course there wasn’t anything in the book that hadn’t already been included in the information leak.  But the sequel…

Emma Miller was preparing to go to war with the terrorist agency.  And based off of the dates she’d last written, she’d gotten the chunk of it down before going all J.D. Salinger on everyone.

She seemed like a reasonably intelligent young woman, of course she should have predicted what would happen if that information was made available to the public.  It wasn’t like she had the Avengers as her personal friends, or had been trained by the Red Room like Natasha had been.  No wonder she was so buddy-buddy with Rogers, the idiots had no regard for their personal safety. 

Hell, the kid had nearly gotten herself blow-up after pushing _known_ secrets. 

Tony stifled back a yawn, leaning back in his chair and looking at the digital images that he had spread around him.

In his fingers he toyed with the card that Emma had given him earlier.  The more he watched news footage from the Today Show incident, the more he was convinced that the author was right.  Broken lighting equipment didn’t blow up windows. 

But no matter how many facial searches he ran on the crowd, the computer didn’t pick up any known HYDRA agents or even _SHIELD_ agents, for that matter. 

He waved his hand and closed the files, deciding to only focus on new information. 

Emma Miller had stolen _a lot_.  Tony would have been impressed if he didn’t know for a fact that the author paid heavily for that act of betrayal against Alec.   
And if she was right, this was going to put a bigger dent in HYDRA than the team could have done in months.  She had names, addresses, blue prints, and experiments. 

For kicks and giggles, he had FRIDAY run Alan Marcel’s name through the database. 

It was like Christmas morning the way the screen lit up.  Marcel was attached to hundreds of buildings and empty warehouses from Detroit to Pittsburgh to Harlem.  Tony quickly cross referenced the Yonkers warehouse with the bust from earlier in the month, and sure enough it was purchased around the same time as the other properties.

What did HYDRA want with street drugs and urban kids?

He kicked himself for not scanning the warehouse more thoroughly after the fire.  There had to have been something left over.  Maybe it wasn’t as cut and dry as bricks of cocaine.

He scrolled through some of the programs, most were marked failed or in progress, though he did notice that the replication of the super-soldier formula had no status next to it.  It was encrypted to all hell, but it wasn’t any FRIDAY couldn’t handle in a few minutes.  Tony took the time to refill his coffee mug, and by the time he returned, images were appearing all around him.

It started with Dr. Erskine.  It outlined his entire life, his experiments… and quickly moved to Red Skull. 

Ah the fanaticism.  Tony had to repress a few eye rolls while he worked his way through Shmidt’s file.  And then Steve.  Always Steve.  The wonder boy.  Mister America himself.

But then it got unpredictable.  There were scribbled notes about experiments conducted on American soldiers, Steve’s friend, Barnes, was included.  After every experiment there was a note on it’s overall mortality.

They were brutal.  They toyed with power from the tesseract, they stole from the Russians, they killed nurses for samples of Steve’s blood.  _Hell_ , they experimented on the Inhumans from that time, those with longevity in their cells, for answers. 

They killed his family. 

They killed a lot of people’s families. 

HYDRA wanted the answer to the super-soldier question.  It was the vast majority of their work as they grew within SHIELD. 

But then Afghanistan happened, Harlem, New Mexico, Manhattan… Loki happened and the game shifted in their favor.  Power wasn’t just muscles, it was miracles and miracles were a dime a dozen now.

And boy, did they get their miracles.  It was pictures and pictures of corpses, young and old.  It started in Sokovia and the dates and locations shifted more frequently to the states.  There were notes of Inhumans, abilities unlocked by fish oil…

“Tony?” Steve’s voice made Tony close the file and turn around in his chair.  FRIDAY was supposed to alert him the minute someone got up from their bed. 

“Rogers,” Tony greeted with a cough.  He wasn’t one to get caught off guard, especially in his own home.  Well, _pseudo_ home.  “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?" 

“It’s nearly seven in the morning,” Steve replied with a frown.  “Did you go to bed?”

“I did not,” Tony admitted with a long sip of his coffee.  He nearly choked when the liquid hit his tongue.  When had it gotten cold?

“This will still be here in a few hours,” Steve gestured to the computer and folded his arms across his chest.   “You should really get some sleep.”

Tony snorted.  

“Steve Rogers caring about _my_ wellbeing?  Call the papers.”  It was a low blow, Tony knew it, but he was exhausted and didn’t want the asshole in American flag underpants to lecture him about self-care.  He was beyond that for the evening.  Well, _morning_. 

Tony poured the rest of his coffee in the sink and grabbed his tablet off of the table before disappearing into his room.  He pulled up the files from his mobile device and flipped through them once again. 

 _Miracles… youth…_ he was trying to form coherent theories around the information before he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to relax the pupils from the straining light.  Just a second.  No longer.  He would just relax a second…

Unconsciousness swept over him and he succumbed to it with no fight. 

It would all be there in a few hours.  A small nap never hurt anyone.

 

 


	8. Devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU WANT SOME FLUFF? Too bad, you're getting it anyway! 
> 
> Little bit longer than previous chapters, so enjoy!

* * *

 

The next few weeks passed uneventfully for Emma.

The team had been in and out of the Avenger’s facility, tracking down leads or staking out some of the listed HYDRA heads.  It was rare to have everyone there at once.

Emma generally spent her time reading and writing, and occasionally sneaking out to take walks around the building.  The area surrounding the compound was gorgeous, and nature was exactly what Emma needed to keep her mind off of Henry. 

It was awful. 

Every time the team returned from a bust, she was terrified that her older brother would be in tow.  And because no one bothered telling her the specifics of each mission, she was blind when they went in.  It was a matter of time when they’d be going after him. 

So she distracted herself.  Sometimes Clint or Sam would be left behind and she’d go deeper into the woods surrounding the area.  When Natasha was there, the spy would try to teach Emma some semblance of self-defense; but the author’s hand-eye coordination left something to be desired.

Sometimes Tony would give her some snippets of information they found, or tell her where he was in the search for Henry.  Steve, on the other hand, was a closed vault when it came to missions.  

Not that Emma minded, she knew where to get information if she wanted it badly enough, she usually just chatted with him while he worked out or adjusted something on his motorcycle.  

On rare occasions he would join her and Sam for their walks, pointing out interesting birds or having the group listen for distant chirps that only a super-soldier could hear. 

Time passed, and summer shifted to fall. 

One September morning Steve woke Emma up with vague instructions to get dressed and bring a coat. 

Immediately Emma’s mind jumped to possibilities.  Maybe he was finally going to let her ride his bike, as she’d joked every time he was fixing something on it.  Or they were finally going to explore by a nearby lake, something Clint and Sam refused to let her do because the visibility was too open.

She showered, dressed in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt and grabbed the brown leather jacket Natasha had lent her once the weather began to shift.  Emma, for obvious reasons, didn’t have an extensive wardrobe, nor did she think far enough to pack clothes for the winter.

 Steve was waiting in the kitchen watching the news when Emma hurried in and grabbed an apple off of the kitchen island.  She bit into it and mused that Tony always managed to get his hands on the best produce.  In fact, she was beginning to convince herself that he just cloned the best apples and oranges in that lab of his. 

“That was pretty fast,” Steve noted with a smirk, glancing at his watch.  “And don’t fill up too much.”

Emma arched her brow, mid bite, what on earth did that mean?   She swallowed the chunk and narrowed her gaze at the hero. 

“Are you making me breakfast?” she teased.  “How _sweet_.” 

“Don’t get too excited,” he ruffled her ponytail and flipped the news off.  “Tony has some business in Manhattan to handle today and I figured we could catch a ride." 

Emma ran through a range of emotions.  Initially she was excited, she’d been cooped up for so long, but almost immediately her went to worse case scenarios.

“Manhattan?” she repeated slowly, chewing the last bits of her apple.  “You sure that’s a good idea?”

He shrugged and grabbed a backpack off of the ground and tossed it over his shoulder, his other arm sliding his shield on.  Emma couldn’t help but stare.  He had a brown coat on and underneath he was wearing one of those annoyingly form fitted shirts.  With the shield and those irritatingly blue eyes…

It was a good look for him. 

“…Besides I’ll be right there,” he looked at Emma who was still transfixed on a pectoral muscle and waved a hand in front of her face.  “You ok?” his tone was laced with concern, despite Emma very clearly oogling him for a moment.  Her face reddened and she mumbled something along the lines of being tired and forced a yawn. 

“Just don’t get me killed, that’s all I ask,” she finally relented with a playful punch in his shoulder.   _Jesus_ , she thought with a frown, tossing her purse over her chest.  _It was like punching steal._

“I wouldn’t dream of it Emma,” he replied with a nod toward the jet bay.  She waited behind to toss the apple core away and nearly screamed when Clint had replaced Steve’s spot in the kitchen. 

“Going on a little outing with Cap?” he asked with a grin.  “Aren’t you two just the _cutest_?”  Emma rolled her eyes and wiped her fingers off on a nearby towel.  She gripped a nearby apple and tossed it at him with a scowl.

“How’s Natasha this morning?” she countered before hurrying after Steve. 

“She’s fantastic!” Clint shouted after her, grumbling with a mouth full of apple.  “ _Punk_.”

The archer and her had grown close while she had been waiting around.  He was always up for some sort of adventure and usually volunteered to take her around the woods.  He’d always bring his bow and a cache of arrows, and without fail he’d show off some of his shots.  Sometimes he’d let Emma try her hand at the weapon and a poor squirrel would have a terrible day because of her.

It was easy to talk to Clint.  He had his walls, as everyone did, but he was easier about letting them down.  He’d tell stories about his sister Laura and his niece and nephews, or various adventures he and Natasha went on.  Even if he denied it, Emma could see the way his eyes lit up whenever he mentioned the red haired spy, and if Emma were to bring it up he’d quickly change the subject. 

Usually it was shifted to how good-lucking a certain super-soldier was. 

Not that Emma would give Clint the satisfaction, but a person had to be blind to not see that Steve Rogers was incredibly attractive.  On top of that, he had the personality to match.

But Emma refused to allow herself to feel anything aside from friendship with Steve.  It would just complicate things beyond belief.  She kept telling herself that it was perfectly normal to feel butterflies in her stomach every time he smiled.  Or that it was natural for one’s cheeks to flush whenever he tugged on her ponytail or touched her hand. 

“Mornin’ kiddo,” Tony greeted with a salute to the brunette when she approached him in the bay.  “Hear you and Cap have a hot date?” 

“Not a date,” she corrected lightly, noting that Steve was no where to be found.  “He did say it was surprise.”

“Probably going to woo you with some of that 1940s charm,” he snorted with a glance at a nearby tablet.  “I’ll make sure to remind him to have you home by 10.”

“You and Clint are relentless,” she sighed and shook her head, starting toward the jet and running through a mental checklist of things she wanted to pick up while they were out.

This stupid team and their stupid heroics and stupid kindness.  Emma had let her guard down. 

And she let it down enough to crash aimlessly into Steve’s chest.  

It was cliché, over the top, and Emma wanted to forget how nice his arms felt when they wrapped around her shoulders to steady her.

“Sorry,” she pulled away quickly, nearly stumbling over her feet when she went to her seat.  “I- When are we leaving?”

“Few minutes,” he cleared his throat and paused like he had something to say, but instead bit it down and left the jet. 

Emma took a breath to calm her nerves.  She could still feel his touch running up her arms, like an electric pulse that wouldn’t go away.

And now she had to spend the rest of the day with him. 

 _Fantastic_.  It was going to be like getting zapped by a taser she couldn't get enough of.

* * *

Steve offered his hand to Emma while she climbed out of the jet, and almost out of habit she held it carefully.  When she was back on solid ground, however, she quickly pulled it back and tried to point out some of the sights within in the distance of Stark Tower.

“Wow, you can almost see the Empire State Building,” she turned to the edge and pointed in the distance.  “This is amazing.” 

“Best money can buy,” Tony waltz out of the jet and held a door open for the author.  “You would have known if you’d attended last night’s producer’s gala for _your_ movie.” 

He led the group to the main level of the tower, where Emma assumed the team had gathered before moving to the facility upstate.

 “Oh right, the gala I definitely did not get an invitation to,” she looked at Steve with a smirk.  He gave a small shrug, having had no knowledge of the event. 

“I’m fairly certain FRIDAY sent a beautiful invitation to your apartment a few weeks ago,” he sighed and dropped down on a sofa.  “Isn’t that right FRIDAY?”

_“That is correct sir.”_

“As fun as this is,” Steve rested a hand on Emma’s shoulder and guided her toward the elevator.  “I do have a schedule to keep.” 

“A schedule?” Tony perked up and looked at Emma with a grin.  “Make sure you don’t keep her out too late Mr. Rogers.”

“I won’t have to if we get going now,” he teased back, tossing his backpack on; his shield dangling for the side.  The pair climbed into the elevator and when the doors shut Emma let out a stifled laugh.

“What is it?” he asked as his companion snorted back a snicker.  It was a stupid memory, and Emma wouldn’t have even brought it up if she hadn’t been able to keep it together.

“You helped me move my trash the second time I met you,” she recalled with a chuckle.  “I had fired my housekeeper before you moved in.”

“You did have a lot,” he admitted with a frown, earning a smack from Emma.  “You keep hitting me and I’m not sure what that means.”

“It means, ugh,” she shook her head when the elevator doors opened and practically skipped into the lobby.  Emma either needed to be touching him or as far away as possible.  There was no middle ground.  Her shoulder still burned from his touch upstairs and her hand wanted to wrap itself around his. 

Perfectly normal.  She _obviously_ felt the same way when Clint hovered over her trying to teach her to shoot, or when Sam sat down next to her on the couch to watch a movie. 

Emma Miller felt like a perfect idiot.

“Where to first?” she asked once they stepped out onto the busy street.  Barely 9am and it seemed like all of Manhattan was out at once.

“Central Park,” he instructed pointing to the right.  “You’ve never been there, right?” 

“I have not,” she replied through a smile.  Of course Steve Rogers would remember such a simple comment.  He’d been training in the gym, and they’d taken turns asking each other about their childhoods.  When he mentioned his mother had taken him to Central Park when he was little, Emma admitted to have never been.  With Alec, there hadn’t been a lot of sightseeing. 

“That changes today,” he declared confidently while they weaved their way through the pedestrian traffic.  If Emma recalled correctly, the park was relatively close to Stark Tower.  Which came as a relief as the crowds were beginning to unnerve her. 

Any one of these people could ambush them, could hurt her or Steve… 

Steve’s hand grasped around hers and he pulled her closer until they escaped the mass of people. 

“I told you, I’m not going to let anything happen,” he reminded her sincerely and Emma felt her heart thump against her chest in a way she wasn’t used to. 

But like clockwork, her mind twisted his words and intentions.

Sure he kept saying that, but what benefit did she even have at this point?  They had everything they needed and Emma had been nothing but a burden to Steve. 

“ _You need to get out of your head_ ,” he recited Emma’s own words back at her when she fell quiet during the walk.  Emma stuck her tongue out at him and tried to fight back the infectious grin that had spread across his face.

“Steve Rogers,” she began, trying to choke back a laugh.  “You did not just use my own words against me!”  She feigned shock and held a hand to her forehead.  “I cannot believe you would treat a lady like that.”

“My mother would be ashamed,” he looked at his shoes for a moment before they entered the park and he pulled her toward a grassy area.  “Though I’m thinking this might make up for it.”

He knelt down in the grass and opened his backpack up, revealing a neatly packed breakfast. 

“You _did_ make me breakfast,” she grinned, taking the blanket he’d set to the side and spreading it across the grass. 

“It’s not much,” he looked flustered, his hands fumbling through the knapsack.  “Clint helped me before you got up.” 

Clint Barton.  Of course he had a part in this.

“It could be saltine crackers and water for all I care,” she assured him while he pulled out a few containers of waffles and fruit.  It was like the bag never emptied, he grabbed a zip-loc of toast and small containers of jelly.  Finally, he set a bottle of orange juice in the center and opened everything up. 

It looked delicious, and for a moment Emma was thankful it wasn’t crackers and water.

“Surprise!” he exclaimed after he was happy with the set up.  It certainly was a surprise.  There was no way in a million years that Emma would have expected a breakfast with Captain America in Central Park.

It was a touching gesture, and probably the kindest thing someone had done for her in years.

She was actually speechless. 

“I’m sorry if it’s…” he trailed off, shuffling some of the plates around awkwardly.  She shook her head and set a hand on his wrist. 

“It’s perfect,” she assured with a warm smile.  “It’s perfection.  Thank you, Steve.”

 Steve’s worry shifted to a grin and he fixed her a small serving of food.  She took a bit and had to swallow down a moan.  Go figure he was an amazing chef.

He grabbed the majority of the food, leaning back into the grass and taking bites while he pointed out different things around them. 

It was perfect.  Everything about it was perfect.

“There’s a zoo here too,” he explained pointing his fork over his shoulder.  “Though it’s nothing extravagant.”

“I just can’t believe they fit a zoo in here at all,” Emma mumbled taking a sip of her juice. 

“It’s huge,” Steve’s eye lit up when he continued to list all of the things the park contained.  “I can’t believe you’ve lived in New York so long and have _never been here._ " 

Emma didn’t have a response and instead took a large bite out of her waffle. 

“Sorry,” he backtracked, realizing the comment and her silence.

She swallowed and shrugged it off.

“I’m here now,” she replied, wiping some syrup off of the corners of her mouth.  “That’s all that matters to me.”

She never needed to fake happiness around Steve.  Every emotion around him felt so genuine and real.  Laughter felt amazing.  Smiling.  Having no worries or fears.  He kept her in the moment and it was _spectacular_.

* * *

 

The noon sun rolled above them and Emma was on the ground laughing at a story about Steve and Bucky during their childhood.

“And that’s how I got my wagon taken away,” he finished between fits of laughter.

“How did you even reach adulthood?” she asked, snorting back another laugh. 

“It’s really a miracle,” he agreed, leaning back on his palms and blinking up at the sun.  He closed his eyes a moment, taking in as much sunlight as he could.  “Must have been an adventure growing up with two brothers." 

“Not so much,” she replied, sitting up to face him better.  “Henry was into a lot of… less popular activities and would get picked on.  Jordan was too young to get caught up in an adventures with Henry.”

“Ah so you were the trouble maker,” he noted and Emma mock-scowled. 

“And what makes you say that?” she exclaimed, nudging him with her toes. 

“You don’t seem like the type of person who’d let someone you love get hurt,” he explained softly and Emma nodded reluctantly.

“I did pick fights with the older kids,” she admitted quietly.  “I usually got my butt kicked though.”

“Didn’t we all?”

“Hey, I don’t see you complaining now, all covered in muscle and stars,” she pointed out, to his embarrassment.  His cheeks reddened slightly at the comment. 

“I do win a lot more fights now,” he agreed lightly.

“I’m sure,” she balled her jacket up behind her head and fell backward onto the blanket.  The sun felt so nice, and Emma knew there were only a few more days left before winter rolled into town.  She closed her eyes.

* * *

 

Emma wasn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep, but she woke to the sounds of scratching on paper.

 She sat up and let out a small yawn, letting her eyes readjust to the sunlight.

“You were only out for a half hour,” Steve explained, his attention focused on the sketch pad in front of him.  “Figured you needed the rest.”

“Thanks,” she muttered before trying to reposition herself to better see his drawing.  He tilted the pad toward her so she could glance at it. 

He’d drawn a phenomenal sketch of an old man and his dog at the end of the hill.

“You did this in a half hour?” she asked, her eyes wide.  He brushed a few stray marks off the side of the pad and set it down in his lap. 

“Really it was about twenty minutes,” he sheepishly corrected.  “And it’s just a practice sketch, it’s terrible.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she shook her head and grabbed his hands, holding them up against hers.  They were so much bigger than hers, something she’d noticed the first night he’d led her back to her apartment. 

 She frowned and flipped them over, tracing a finger over the tops of his hand.  

“I should have known,” she started, facing them palm up and running her thumb along the side of his hand. 

“Known what?” he leaned in and looked at his hand, trying to see what she saw.  She leaned in, her face inches away from his.

“You have an artist’s _hands_ ,” she laughed, folding his hands shut and setting them back in his lap.  “No wonder we get along.”

“I figured it was our reckless disregard for personal safety.”

 “I’m trying to be nice,” she complained with a long, dramatic sigh.  He held his hands up in defeat. 

“Fine, _artists_ it is,” he allowed her to clean up while he finished his picture.  When she’d folded the blanket into the backpack, he closed the notebook and tucked it away.

Emma caught herself staring again.

 _Uh oh,_ she thought while she was pulled back to reality by a soft touch on her elbow.

She had it _bad_. 


	9. Monster

Ever since Emma could remember, the voice of reason in her head had a warped version of reality.  It was loud and demanding.  It always shouted at her and convinced her that everything she attempted to do was pointless.  It was dangerous.  She was crazy.  She was unstable.  _Unlovable_. 

Alec just furthered that narrative. 

Every day was like being trapped under the ocean.  Even if she managed to pull her head above the surface for an instant, another wave would crash over and throw her back under.

The day she published her story was the first time she’d been able to float on the surface for a while.  Though there were sharks circling around her, they never touched her.  It was a damaged peace, but peace nonetheless.

Therapy didn’t do shit for her.  They’d always ask about her childhood, her family, her friends.  Did she grieve when her father died?  Did she miss her older brother?  How was her relationship with her mother?

By the end of the day, they always said the same thing- she was crazy. 

 _No shit_ , she was crazy.  That wasn’t the answer she was looking for.  She was looking for, _why_?

Someone suggested she write some more.  So she did just that.

Someone suggested going to the park and she got mugged. 

Someone suggested going on a vacation and when she arrived in Washington DC, the sky fell above her.

Someone suggested dating.

Suddenly she just stopped listening.   She stopped going to signings, she stopped searching for the answers, she was just so tired.

If she was gonna be crazy, she was going to show them crazy.

She closed down bars nightly, locked herself in her room and wore the same outfit for days at a time.  Anyone who mentioned her novel was immediately locked out of her life. 

She stopped calling her mother, ignored Jordan’s emails, and forwarded most of her mail to a PO Box. 

It was so much easier to just lay around, eat and drink.  She did the math and theoretically could coast on her savings for a few years before having to write another book. 

It was lonely, but it was safe and that voice in the back of her mind quieted a little.

As long as she stayed put, she’d be safe.  If she stayed indoors, she’d be at peace.  She’d be able to float again. 

But the sharks were nudging her now and a storm was brewing in the distance. 

She let another wave carry her back under the water and then one day, she felt soft sand under her toes.  So she swam.

_“I’m Steve.”_

And another wave crashed.

_“Punk.”_

And she was gasping on the sand of dry land. 

For so long she’d hidden the _crazy_.  She tried to self-medicate, tried to swallow down the difficult pill of her own mental illness, yet all it took was the kindness of a few strangers to pull her back on her feet. 

 _That_ and sheer willpower.  Clint didn’t drag her out of the facility for their walks and Steve didn’t throw her over his shoulders and bring her to Detroit.  Baby steps.  She was taking baby steps.  Walking around Manhattan took baby steps.  Central Park took baby steps.

And even though Emma wanted to throw up every time someone bumped into her, she maintained her balance on that sandy beach. 

She wasn’t going to let the tide pull her back in.

Not again.

Steve sent a smile to her through the shelves of a small bookstore.  Emma replaced the book in time to cover the blush that rose from her neck.  They'd stopped by after leaving the park, Emma pointing out that it sold new and used books for cheap prices.  

He laughingly held up a hardcover of her book, earning a scowl and a sassy remark from the author.  The shop’s owner looked up at the commotion and quickly recognized the pseudo-celebrities. 

And for the first time, she smiled for a polaroid, the owner’s arm slung over her shoulders and Steve in the background with his famous grin.

She was still healing.  She’d probably be healing for a long time, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to lose herself in these moments.  Clint had told her that after they’d talked about Loki and he tossed rocks at nearby tree trunks.

She bought Clint a bird-watching book and a guide to local spiders.  A joke she was sure he would appreciate. 

Steve decided to wait on the sidewalk while she cashed out, so she slipped in a beautiful leather bound sketchbook in with the purchase to the amusement of the shop owner. 

Emma watched Steve looked around the block and wave when they made eye contact. 

That voice that had vexed her for so long, was finally gone.  She was in the moment and she’d never been happier. 

“You ever been to Ellis Island?” Steve questioned after she joined him by the street. 

“I’m beginning to feel like a terrible New Yorker,” she laughed when he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the subway.  

“We still have plenty of time to fix that,” his eyes lit up at the prospects and Emma let herself be tugged along.  It was something to see the man who helped end World War II, laugh like a child over waffles and historical landmarks.

* * *

The last time Steve had been to Central Park was before he’d had the serum.

He and Bucky had been stood up for a double date and the latter suggested they take a walk around the famous park. 

They’d gotten hotdogs and sat on some rocks, watching families and couples as they passed by.  They joked about the girls who’d ditched them and mused about their dreams.  Bucky was going to open a movie theater with his sister and Steve was going to be a famous artist.  They nearly fell off the rocks when they laughed about where Bucky would set up Steve’s paintings. 

He had a better time that day than he would have with whatever-her-name was. 

He hadn’t been able to even think about going back after he lost Bucky.  The memory was sweet, but it’s sweetness made it painful.  He was the embodiment of strength and yet broke at the thought of a park. 

Yet when Clint and Natasha suggested the picnic as a way to get Emma out of the compound for a free day, he didn’t even flinch at the idea.

Everything felt so fluid and natural.  Every heartache and sorrow he’d bottled up came up so easily around his old neighbor.  Every smile healed, every laugh inspired something deep inside of him.

She listened to his stories and pulled him out of his thoughts when he disappeared into his mind.  She kept him grounded and gave him a purpose as Steve Rogers, not just Captain America.

“Did your family come through Ellis?” Emma asked when they started to board the ferry.  Her eyes darted around at all of the people around them, a large group for a weekday afternoon.  He guided her toward the front of the ferry where the crowd was less sparse before answering.

“My mother and father both came through right before World War I,” he explained, watching Emma slowly calm down as the ferry started toward the island.   “My dad enlisted after my mom got pregnant and the rest is history.”

“Sounds like the stubborn apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Emma chuckled, recalling the history lessons they’d been taught in elementary school. 

“You could say that,” he agreed, pausing for a moment when the ferry jolted and the engine came to a stop in the middle of the bay.  Emma paled, her knuckles whitening on the railing of the boat.  Absently he placed a protective hand over hers and glanced at the captain’s deck.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he assured her quietly.  She nodded, but he could see her body shake in fear.  Maybe the trip to Ellis _and_ Central Park were too much for one day. 

Everything went to hell quickly after that.  An explosion sounded from the back of the ship and people began to scream.  Emma’s eyes widened at the fire that wrapped around the deck, her body clearly frozen in pure terror. 

Steve grabbed a nearby life jacket and fit it around her shoulders, trying to pull her back to him consciously. 

“Em,” he repeated and finally her brown eyes blinked at him.  “Get off the ship and swim away.  Get to safety." 

Police sirens were already sounding in the distance and Emma frowned, her gaze igniting as fiercely as the flames around them.  

“I’m not running away this time,” she murmured, pulling the life jacket off and tossing it down.  “Besides, I’m not going anywhere without you.  Let’s go save some people.”

Another explosion rocked the ship, this time from the top deck, and smoke was beginning to smother the crowd.  Steve didn’t have a lot of time to argue with the brunette, as she was already sprinting into the flames toward a trapped family. 

The ship rocked and he lost sight of her, but a scream from the other direction reminded him of his responsibilities.  As much as he tried to comfort himself that Emma wouldn’t be dumb enough to sacrifice herself for others, he was reminded that the woman was waging a single-handed battle against HYDRA. 

A woman was screaming that her husband was trapped on the second deck when it had caught flames and Steve swung up with ease.  He used his shield to wedge away some debris and freed a handful of people, ushering them to the bottom deck. 

Anyone who wasn’t already detained was beginning to flee the ship, jumping into the water and swimming toward police boats.  The shouts from the ferry were dying down and once he was sure the upper level was clear, he started searching for Emma.

“Emma!” he shouted over the roaring flames, for an instant he saw her helping a small child into a life vest and lowering him into the water, before rubble fell and clouded his vision. 

He charged through, ignoring the biting flames to find his friend.  When he burst through the other side, Emma was nowhere to be seen. 

He whirled around, scanning the area for her before spotting her on the other side of the ferry.  She seemed to be talking to someone when he rounded the corner and when he grabbed her shoulder, she looked like she’d seen a ghost. 

“We need to move,” he ordered, his mind going to strategy and planning.  The ship creaked and began to dip down, the water from the bay slipping onto the deck.  Emma nodded wordlessly and hopped over the railing into the water.  They swam a safe distance away and floated a moment before Emma spoke up. 

“Helmut Zemo was on the ferry,” her voice shook when she spoke, though Steve wasn’t sure if it was the weight of her statement or the cold water.  “He knows where Henry is.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH cliffhanger. I'm mean. 
> 
> Thank you for all of the lovely comments and kudos! I'm trying to update a little more frequently because I honestly want to get Emma and Steve together as much as you guys do haha. 
> 
> Have a lovely evening!


	10. Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This chapter has personally victimized me over the last week, haha. I've probably re-written it a hundred times, each time going in a different direction. 
> 
> So, whenever I got mad I started re-writing the FIRST chapter of this story. That being said, I'll probably be updating that relatively soon. It'll still work with everything up to this point, I just kept reading what I currently have up and hating it. 
> 
> Thanks for all the support and I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

 

“Anyone else wondering how the hell Zemo got out of prison?” Clint asked once the team reconvened at the Tower in Manhattan.  When Steve said he was calling everyone in, he wasn’t kidding.  Scarlet Witch, Vision, even a few faces she only saw flashing across the TV during the fight in Germany.

“Ross gave him clearance,” Colonel Rhodes explained with a long sigh.  “Something about being employed personally by the Feds.  That’s the rumor at least.”  He adjusted his position in his chair and Emma caught sight of the exo-skeleton around his legs.  It was no secret what had happened to War Machine during the fight in Germany.  She just hadn’t realized the extent of the damage to the man under the suit. 

No wonder Tony was so torn up. 

“That’s wonderful,” Nat snorted.  “The man _so_ concerned about protecting the world, let a psychopath out of the bin.”

“Did he say anything else to you?” Wanda, Emma learned, asked her lightly.  “About anything?”  The author shrugged. 

“He said he’d be in contact,” she replied in frustration.  Honestly, Emma had hoped the man would have set up a meeting or _something_.  She could have slipped away for an hour, gotten the answers she needed and beaten them to Henry. 

But no.  More mind games.  More sleepless nights.

“I think he still has his eyes set on keeping the team apart,” the bug man supplied.  

Ant-man, Emma reminded herself.  _Scott_.  Scott Lang. 

The Avengers desperately needed name tags.  An insect, two arachnids, two birds… it was getting a little overkill. 

“Obviously,” Tony agreed with a glance at Steve.  The look went unnoticed by the super-soldier, whose head was bowed deep in thought.  

“Why Emma though?” 

“Personal connections?” Natasha supplied.  “It’s not hard to draw a map and get from her to us.  Especially if he pulls on any family ties.”

“ _Henry_ ,” Clint sighed and clapped a hand on Emma’s shoulder.  “Please don’t do anything stupid, kid.”

“And what would stupid entail?” Emma questioned with a frown, her brow arching.  “For clarification.”

“Any and all contact with Helmut Zemo would be a start,” Rhodes chimed up.  Emma frowned and threw her hands up.

“Well who am I supposed to talk to on Facebook now?  Thanks guys,” she grumbled sarcastically, earning a small smirk from Natasha in the corner of the room. 

“Is there reason Zemo would only have a personal interest in Miss Miller?” Vision changed the course of the conversation slightly.  “What information do we have on the specific relationship between Henry and Zemo?”

“Henry gave him the coordinates to the Siberian base,” Steve offered up.  It was common knowledge at this point.  “I’d imagine they’re on decent terms.”

“We need to know if Henry is captive somewhere,” Natasha reasoned.  “Either by Zemo as a pawn or by HYDRA for disobeying orders.”

“Could be dead too,” Tony added, earning a scowl from Clint and Steve simultaneously.  Emma rolled her eyes at her friend’s reactions. 

“Hey, I’ve thought it too,” she looked down and fumbled with her hands on the table while they continued to debate possibilities. 

Regardless of what they all decided, no one could do anything until Zemo attempted to contact her again. 

“…And that means she’s going to be doing some publicity for the movie,” Tony decided, pressing his hands into the side of the table and pulling Emma back into the conversation.  “Maybe even hint at the sequel.  Let’s kill all of our birds at once.”

“You’re insane,” Steve immediately stated.  “She nearly got killed twenty feet away from me.  You’re asking us to poke the fire with a stick covered in kerosene.”

“I mean, she’s probably not going to be killed with a few of us around,” Sam supplied.  “We’ll have a ton of visual.  Heck, Clint could probably shoot a bullet out of mid-air.”

“I don’t want to brag…” Clint puffed his chest out and grinned.  Natasha and Wanda simply exchanged eye contact.  Emma could almost hear the internal groans of irritation.

 She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about Tony’s plan.  Part of her craved being back in the outside world, even if it meant walking around with a target on her back.  The other part wasn’t so sure.  It was big change for her, especially considering how she’d spent the last year on her own. 

Her editor would probably be thrilled.

“Let’s do it,” she stated to the surprise of herself and the heroes around her.  She almost didn’t recognize the confident voice that interrupted Steve and Tony’s argument. 

“You know what this means, right?” Steve pressed.  “What you’re agreeing to?”

 _Bless him,_ Emma thought to herself, her face flushing when she made eye contact with the soldier.  Always prepared, always so protective of his friends. 

“I do,” she nodded with a glance around the table.  “Plus if you guys can protect a city from an alien attack, I think you all can handle a few deranged _humans_.”

 Tony let out a tense laugh before setting a hand on Steve’s shoulder for support. 

“She’s crazier than I thought,” he chortled before shaking his head and looking to the team.  “Works for me though, who else is in?”

 A chorus of agreement simmered around the table and soon they were charting out specifics.  Tony pulled Miss Potts into the conversation via speakerphone and Emma shot an email out to her publishing office.

* * *

Alan Marcel considered himself a practical man.  He lived in a practical house, with his practical family.  His son and daughter went to a decent school in a decent neighborhood and his wife worked part-time at a small bookshop.

He did what he needed to in order to get by, even if it meant associating with less than desirable folks. 

Alan Marcel wasn’t poor by _any_ definition of the word; he actually was quite well off.  But when opportunities arose that he saw as profitable, he simply could not turn them down. 

So when Jasper Sitwell of SHIELD approached him a few years back about a program that would take dangerous urban youth off the streets, he was very interested.  After discussing it in detail, Alan decided to make a practical choice and be directly involved. 

Every morning he’d kiss his family goodbye and meet Sitwell at an office building in downtown Manhattan.  They’d got over schematics, purchase properties and wait for the perfect opportunity to make their move.

They started small.  With youth organizations throughout Metro Detroit.  No one cared about that city or its children.  Like Alan, everyone was more focused on the bottom line.  

It was surprisingly easy to get volunteers.  Add incentive for a few dollars and the kids came running. 

He wasn’t proud of what he did, but it meant solidifying himself in a powerful organization and making significant profits.  He wasn’t stupid.  He knew who Sitwell was really answering to, he’d heard whispers his whole life of the elusive group.  He just choose to ignore it, and focus on the numbers on the page.

But now the Avengers were involved.  

Sitwell had promised that Alan’s name would be disconnected from the properties before the agent had disappeared.  But with Black Widow and Falcon poking around his Yonkers warehouse, he needed to careful. 

He _thought_ that Germany and the Accords had torn the team apart, but when he saw Iron Man and Captain America talking that afternoon, he needed a backup plan. 

It didn’t take long to pull strings.  He had numerous politicians in his pocket.  A few phone calls later and Helmut Zemo was a contracted employee of the Federal Government.  

It wasn’t a permanent fix, but it was enough for Alan Marcel to buy some time for himself.

* * *

“No you hold your arms up like this,” Steve corrected Emma’s stance and tried to throw a soft punch in her direction.  She nearly toppled over herself. 

He really should have known before convincing her to practice some self defense.  The woman had no history of sports or anything.  She wasn’t particularly strong or graceful, for that matter.

“I really am starting to lean toward weapons,” she suggested with a sigh. 

“Even Clint can handle his own if his bow is taken away,” Steve reminded her, folding his arms across his chest and studying her over again.  If this was how Bucky felt trying to teach _him_ how to fight, he really needed to apologize the next time he saw his friend.  “Can you do a push up?”

“I’ve never really tried, not since high school,” she admitted before crawling onto the ground and attempting the move.  She fell on her face and looked up.  “No, I cannot.”

“This is really sad to watch,” Clint complained, entering the training room with Natasha shortly behind. 

“I _told_ you,” she insisted to the archer in a low voice, causing Emma to redden in the cheeks.  Steve turned his attention to the new-comers. 

“I’m at a loss,” he shook his head.  “We have a week before her next press conference.”

“I say a bullet proof vest and some prayers,” Clint offered lightly, earning a glare from Steve and Nat simultaneously.  “What?  That push-up was pathetic, no offense Em.”

Emma shrugged the comment off and stood next to the group. 

“Maybe we should re-think the strategy?” she murmured, biting her lip and glancing between the group.  Steve would have loved to, but the plan was already in motion and he would not bother trying to dissuade Tony. 

“Come on,” Clint shoved Emma in the shoulders, causing the smaller woman to stumble backward slightly.  “You’ve got to have something in there.  Maybe we’ve been focusing on blocking when we should be focusing on _hitting_.”

He pushed her again.  Natasha and Steve stepped back and watched the archer antagonize his younger companion. 

“I thought you got in a few fights back in the day?  Come onnnn,” he taunted, shoving her again.  Emma tried to shove back, but was flipped onto the ground with ease.  Steve immediately realized that Clint wasn’t about to hold back. 

“There’s a difference between _spies_ and twelve-year-olds,” Emma grunted.  She hopped back to her feet and charged at Clint’s core.  The archer was relatively unaffected by the move, lifting the author off of her feet and tossing her over his shoulder.  “I’m not even that much shorter than you!  What the hell!?”

“Yeah but you weight about as much as a damp pillow,” he chuckled, holding her in place while she struggled.  “When’s the last time you had a cheeseburger or something?”

“I might actually kill you,” she snapped at him before the archer set her back on her feet. 

“I’d like to see you try,” he smirked.  

Steve honestly wanted to see it too.  He knew Emma was tough, but he’d never gotten her riled up enough to see her full potential.  He couldn’t help it, he definitely was sweet on Emma Miller and hated seeing anything other than a smile on the brunette’s features. 

Clint, however, was having the time of his life.

“Don’t you get angry?” he tried to pull a reaction out of Emma again, poking at her shoulder.  “Or do you just hide all the time?  Alec tossed you around like a ragdoll, didn’t he?”

 _Oh_.  Steve had never seen that look in Emma’s eyes.  Even Natasha tensed next to him. 

“Spineless little Emma Marie Miller,” Clint was poking at some of the vulnerabilities that the author had clearly opened up to him about.  And it was working.  “Hiding behind her words and her friends.  You don’t wanna fight, you just wanna hide like the little coward you are.”

Emma _leapt_ at him. 

Even Clint didn’t see it coming and crashed on his back with Emma swinging punches at his face.  He blocked with relative ease, but it was clear there was some power behind ease hit. 

“Hey, _hey_ ,” Steve decided the rampage had gone on longer enough before pulling the disgruntled author off of his teammate.  Natasha wrapped an encouraging arm around Emma’s shoulder while Steve pulled Clint back to his feet.  “Little dirty for my taste." 

“It worked, didn’t it?” Clint brushed his shirt off and sent an apologetic glance in Emma’s direction.  “Sorry ‘bout that.  You’ve been holding back.  Fighting is equal parts mental and physical Em.”

Emma had calmed down and nodded at the words, murmuring something with Natasha. 

“She’s stronger than she looks,” Clint confirmed, aimlessly rubbing his shoulder.  “She’s got a good height; we just need to stabilize her a bit.  Keep her from getting knocked down or swept up.” 

“Think we can do it in a week?” Steve questioned with raised brows.  It was a stretch, but at least they’d be able to make some headway. 

“I have a few ideas,” Clint grinned at the soldier.  “We’ll all just be spending a _lot_ of quality time together.”  He nudged Steve in the rib and winked before joining Emma and Nat. 

For a brief moment, Emma made eye contact with him and sent a reassuring grin in his direction. 

The exchange was just enough to get Steve’s heart pounding.  He was  _really_ looking forward to the next week. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More slight fluff. There's gonna more, TRUST me. I have a feeling y'all are gonna love the next few chapters. Stay tuned! <3


	11. Breathless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, I updated the first chapter! It wasn't much, just edited some of the awkwardness and made it flow better with the rest of the story. Feel free to check it out, otherwise it doesn't really effect anything onward. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

Nightmares were becoming Emma’s constant companions recently.

It was like every time she closed her eyes, images of the past or future flickered through and tormented her.  There was no escape, aside from staying awake.  So she stayed awake as long as humanly possible.  The plan worked flawlessly the first few nights, but by the fourth day she was barely cognizant. 

Steve knew something was wrong the moment she stepped into the training room that morning.  She tossed her duffle bag near one of the benches and started to tighten the laces on her shoes, ignoring the concerned glances Steve gave her. 

Sure, she probably looked like crap, but he didn’t have to be so obvious about it. 

“What?” she questioned, pretending not to notice the way his face creased in worry.

“You look exhausted,” he stated softly.  He sat down on the bench next to her and kept his blue gaze trained on her.  “Have we been pushing you too hard?  I know it’s a lot to learn in just a week…”

 _That’s_ what he was worried about?  Emma choked back the laugh that threatened to escape her chest.  God, what she would have given to just be tired from a little exercise. 

“I’m fine,” she lied.  She heard him let out a long, drawn out sigh.  _Fair_ , she relented, tugging at her shoe.  Even she was unconvinced.

Still, she tried pushing through.  She jumped up from the bench and clapped her hands, trying to get her blood pumping and ready to go. 

“You ready?” she asked, forcing an excited grin across her face.  Steve stayed put and frowned.  “What?” she repeated.

“You’re wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday,” he replied pointedly, a small nod in her direction.  Emma looked down and internally groaned.  She hadn’t changed out of the jeans and tee shirt she’d worn after training yesterday.  Rookie mistake.  “Did you sleep at all?” 

“Of course,” she lied, trudging back to the bench and digging through her bag again for her gym clothes.  “I just _passed_ out though.  After we ate.” She avoided eye contact with the soldier while she searched aimlessly for her clothes. 

“Tony said you never went back to your room,” Steve’s tone hinted that he knew more than he was letting on.  “You just sat up writing in the living room all night.” 

It was partially true.  She’d drank about four cups of coffee and typed at her keyboard.  When she looked at it the next morning, it was all jibberish.  Typical, really.  She’d been so convinced the night before that she’d reached some level of literary genius. 

“Well Tony can mind his own damn-,” she grumbled over her shoulder before locking eyes with Steve.  

“It’s been three nights, actually,” he added, his expression tensing.  Steve should have known better than to try and draw the information out of her.  Emma was just as, if not more, stubborn than he was.  She could go all day if he let her. 

“Hm,” she lightly commented, breaking the eye contact and tossing her bag down in defeat.  She’d packed two pairs of heels and a pair of pajama pants, but not her work out clothes.  “When creativity strikes, the artist must answer.” 

She noticed that Clint and Natasha hadn’t shown up yet, despite it being a half-hour past the time they usually met.  It was at that moment Emma’s tired mind pieced it all together.  Steve Rogers set her up.  

“I’ll go take a nap,” she lied, trying to shrug her duffle over her shoulder, only to be stopped by Steve’s hand on her arm.  He stood up and looked her over with a sad smile. 

“Why aren’t you sleeping, Emma?” he finally asked, his voice low. 

“Doesn’t matter,” she pulled her arm away, her attention focused on the ground between them.  There was no way she could explain the cold sweats, the nights she choked herself awake in terror, how she awoke every morning with the bitter memory of Alec Reynold’s hands clasped around her throat.

Steve already had his demons.  There was no point in adding hers to the mix. 

“If it jeopardizes this mission, it does matter,” he added sharply.  She could tell that there was a mixture of irritation and concern to his tone.  Perhaps the Captain and Mr. Rogers were battling internally.  “You need complete focus at this press conference.  A lapse in focus could mean life or death.”

It was all very dramatic, Emma mused internally.  Life or death, heroes and spies and missions. 

“It’s not even Friday yet, I have two more nights,” she pointed out, and turned to leave the training area.  He followed quietly, only a few steps behind.  She finally stopped in one of the winding hallways and turned around.  “You don’t need to worry about me.  I’m a big girl.  I’ll smile for the cameras and be waiting for Zemo in a pretty pink dress.  That’s all you guys want, right?”

The lack of sleep was making her snappy.  She didn’t mean to point out that she was nothing but glorified psychopath bait, but his pouting and Captain America-ing were starting to get on her last nerve. 

“Is it nightmares?” he guessed, his voice echoing slightly off of the walls around them. 

“I’m sorry?” she wasn’t sure she’d heard him quite right.  There was no way that she was that transparent. 

“Nightmares,” he repeated slowly.  He looked unsure approaching the topic.  “Sam guessed that might be the case a few nights ago.  With the fire and everything…” he didn’t elaborate, instead watching Emma as she digested the information.

There was no way she could pinpoint exactly where the nightmares were coming from, but she assumed an explosion and Helmut Zemo drudging up her brother didn’t help. 

She blinked back the memory of people screaming and hopping off of the ferry and returned her focus back to Steve.  Emma needed to get out of there before she made an idiot of herself. 

“I’m fine,” she insisted firmly.  “My room’s a little drafty, if you must know.”

She could handle this herself.  She handled everything else until this point. 

“Emma please, you need to rest,” he was practically pleading with her at this point.  Gone was the look of irritation, only worry etched itself across his face.  Emma fumbled with the strap on her duffle bag, looking at the ground, the wall, the ceiling, anyway but at Steve.  “I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

“Why does it matter at this point?” she countered quickly.  Her tone came out sharper than she’d expected.  Steve recoiled slightly at the aggressive remark before shaking his head and cornering Emma against the hallway wall.  He pressed his hand into the wall behind her in frustration, and looked down at her, scanning her face desperately.

“You know exactly why,” he murmured. 

Inches apart, Emma felt that electricity pulse through her again.  If she tilted her head slightly to the right, she could have rested her cheek on his forearm.  Squirming under his gaze, she realized her hair brushed his hand.  He tensed, but didn’t change his position.

He felt the electricity too. 

Emma hadn’t realized that she’d stopped breathing until she gasped a breath of air, her body shuddering from the intense energy between them.  Intimacy was nothing new between the friends- _heck_ , they were always touching or playing with one another’s hair- but this _passion_.  It was something else entirely. 

It felt like decades had passed between the two of them before Emma slid away from the wall and retook her position a few feet over. 

“Because of the _mission_ ,” she practically whispered, the spell broken.  She wanted to retreat to her room, maybe sleep, if her mind would let her after this.  “Can’t have an author with a broken ankle.”  She tried to laugh the comment off, but it fell flat.  Steve was still leaning against the wall, frozen in thought.  Silence.

 _Well_ , she broke Captain America.  

This was her chance to escape, if ever, so she pulled her bag over her shoulder and began to retreat toward the rooms. 

“Emma, wait-,” he suddenly spoke.  Emma whirled around, a question lingering on her lips, when he pulled her by the shoulders into a deep kiss-

If touches were electricity, the kiss was a _lightening storm._  

She barely registered her bag crashing to the ground, her hands wrapping their way around his neck.  In fact, Emma didn’t even realize that he’d moved toward the wall again, until her back was pressed against the cool surface, her only anchor to reality.

Every inch of Emma’s skin burned in need.  How long had they been playing this game?  Tip-toeing around one another?  Why were they so stupid?  How was she so stupid?

Her hand went to the side of his face and traced the edges of his jaw.  She wanted him.  And only him.  She wanted to see and kiss and touch every inch of him.  It was like a spell, everything around them soon dissolved into nothingness. 

But as quickly as it had started- it ended. 

Coming back was like being hit by a train, abrupt and painful. 

They stood in silence, waiting for the other to break the silence first.

“That’s a pretty convincing argument,” she finally breathed, leaning back into the wall and grasping on for support. 

Of course she’d thought about kissing Steve, quite a few times to be precise, but she never would have imagined the impact it would have had on her. 

No one had made her feel like she was simultaneously having a heart attack and drowning with just a _kiss_. 

“It was never _just_ about the mission,” he clarified before grabbing her bag and swinging it over his shoulder.  “ _Never_.”

Emma was blushing like a teenager.  She couldn’t get her mind to form coherent sentences, her head dizzy from a lack of sleep and an abundance of Steve Rogers. 

* * *

As it turned out, Steve had set aside the entire day for Emma to rest.  They returned to her room, where he waited while she showered and changed into a fresh set of clothes. 

After she emerged from the bathroom, she found Steve with an armful of pillows and blankets, trying to open her door with a degree of difficulty.  With a laugh, she opened the door and followed him into the hall.

It took a few minutes for them to reach his destination, but Emma realized that he had set up a small area for the two of them in front of one of Tony’s many televisions.  There was a bowl of popcorn, some water, and a few other snacks that Clint had forbad her from eating during her training.  Steve disappeared again for a moment, before reappearing with another armful of pillows and blankets.

It only took a few seconds before he was content with the set up, grinning up at Emma from the pile of cushions.

“Let’s watch a movie,” he suggested, his eyes lighting up at the suggestion.  Emma let out a long held laugh before hopping over to the nest of blankets and plopping down. 

“What did you have in mind?”

“Something light-hearted,” he replied before pressing a few buttons on the remote and smiling when the familiar MGM lion roared to life across the screen. 

Before long the opening credits of _Wizard of Oz_ appeared and Emma let out a contented sigh.  She melted into the blankets, the first few notes of ‘Over the Rainbow’ filling the room. 

Steve settled in as well, absently throwing an arm around Emma’s shoulders.

As the movie progressed, she found herself edging closer to him.  He was so warm, and she loved the way his body shook when he laughed at a munchkin or the Scarecrow. 

Emma wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but she most decidedly did not have a nightmare. 

Instead, she dreamt of the Emerald City and a certain blond haired man’s smile. 

* * *

Tony glanced at the security monitor a moment before snorting in approval.  The stubborn idiots.  It’d taken them months.  Who took _months_ to make their first move? 

Around him, computer hummed and buzzed as he ran through the remaining files they’d secured from a HYDRA base a few weeks previously.  So far, nothing of use had appeared, but Tony Stark had to be thorough.  Absently he played with an Iron Man stress ball before the chime of his office door brought him to reality again. 

“Come in,” he ordered lazily, reading over a report on Alan Marcel’s last known whereabouts and running another scan on the man’s name. 

“I hope you’re ready for Saturday,” Pepper commented lightly, placing a silver envelope on his desk and waiting for his full attention. 

“For me?” he asked with a grin, leaning forward and opening it.  A handful of tickets to the _Poker Face_ press gala fell out onto the table surface.  “You shouldn’t have.”

“Who am I to say no to you?” she retorted lightly.  The tension between the pair was still as strong as it had been the day she left him.  Though now he did get the occasional smile or lingering touch on the hand if she passed something to him. 

“Not many people have,” he agreed, tucking the tickets into his jacket pocket.  “What do I owe the personal delivery?  Is it my birthday already?” 

She let a smirk flicker across her face an instant before pushing it back down. 

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” she admitted softly.  He nearly fell out of his chair.  He certainly wasn’t expecting _that_.  

“I’m-,” he paused, trying to find the right word.  “I’m _okay_.”

Probably better than he’d been in a long time, but he wasn’t going to admit that out loud. 

“You seem-,” she folded her hands in front of her waist.  “ _Okay_.  Which is better than ‘ _struggling’_.”

He laughed.  It’d been over a year since he’d told Pepper _everything_.  She’d insisted he talk to someone after the Killian drama, but like the idiot he was; he let it simmer.

Even the most perfect woman had a breaking point. 

While she was emotionally turning a new leaf and focusing on her duties as CEO, Tony disappeared into the team.  He was doing well enough until Ultron happened.  Until Bruce left.  Until Steve lied to him.  Until the Accords.  There were so many factors, so many levels to his mind.  

It was one thing after another and before he knew it, Pepper was planting a sad kiss on his cheek and climbing into a town car. 

Her hair had grown longer since then. 

“I still go days without sleeping,” he waved a hand at one of the computer monitors that was chirping an alert at him.  Whatever it was, it could wait.  “But the panic attacks are practically gone.  Rhodey set me up with a guy from-,” he paused when the alert appeared again.  “I’m sorry.” 

Pepper looked disappointed at the interruption, but excused herself under the guise of being late for a meeting. 

He let out a groan before opening the window and reading through whatever FRIDAY had tracked down for him.  _It better have been good_ \- his eyebrows shot up when he read through the report.

Alan Marcel was on the guest list for the gala on Saturday. 

A last minute addition by Emma’s publishing company.

Maybe he should have taken Clint’s joke about bullet proof vests seriously.

                  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY.


	12. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been typed up for a while now, but I wanted to be 100% sure where I wanted to go with the story before posting. That being said, I actually have up to chapter 14 finished and I'll be posting throughout this week! Enjoy!

* * *

 

“Faster!” Natasha pressed, hovering a few feet away from Emma and Clint on the mat.  The brunette was drenched in sweat and had been training since 6 am that morning.  Yet the exhaustion hadn’t quite hit her.  For the last hour Natasha, Clint and Emma worked on disarming techniques.  Clint would come at her from behind and Natasha timed how quickly it took for the author to remove his weapon.  “Again.”

They reset.  Emma whirled around and twisted Clint’s wrist, pushing the tip of the toy gun away from her chest.  He released and Emma jumped back, the gun trained on him.

“ _Again_.”

Clint looked at Natasha in disbelief and with a huff, retrieved the weapon from Emma’s outstretched hand. 

Emma enjoyed the repetition.  Sometimes Clint would come from a different angle or with a toy knife instead of a gun, and she would have to think on her feet.  It kept her mind completely focused on the task at hand and away from _other_ thoughts. 

The movements were becoming automatic.  She’d never be at the level Natasha and Clint were at, but Emma felt confident enough to defend herself. 

A helpful skill in case shit hit the fan that night. 

“You’re still going at it?” Sam strolled into the training room, interrupting Emma kneeing Clint in the side in an attempt to get away from a hold.  “It’s like, almost 4, maybe you guys should get a shower?  Y’all smell awful, just so you know.”

Clint released Emma’s head and slapped her on the shoulder. 

“Not bad,” he congratulated before walking over to Natasha and flipping the back of her ponytail over her head.  The spy scowled in response, and elbowed Clint in the arm.  “Ugh, it worked for Cap…” he grumbled, stumbling toward the benches.

Natasha sent an eye roll toward Sam and Emma before trudging after him, lecturing him about personal space.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked quietly.  Emma shrugged and grabbed a clean towel off of a nearby rack.  She wiped at her face and frowned.  “Ready for tonight?”

“I feel good,” she admitted.  “Which means I’m probably getting kidnapped or killed tonight.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sam snorted, reaching for a bottle of water and passing one off to the author.  She took the beverage gratefully and took a drink to pause the conversation.

Emma was convinced she could do some damage to a lay-person.  But if someone like Alec came at her out of the blue?  She’d be toast.  There was only so much she could learn in a week. 

“It’s gonna be fine,” Sam shifted his tone after seeing Emma’s expression.  “This was just a precaution and there’s a ton of time between now and your next event.” 

“Book signing in LA,” she recited the information with a quick sip of her drink.  “Three weeks from yesterday.  That’s _not_ a lot of time.”

“Maybe Steve’ll trust you with a gun by then,” Sam suggested, following Emma toward the lockers.  She gathered her things and tossed them in her duffle bag, thankful that Natasha was able to lend her some clothes for the impromptu training week.  Emma _really_ needed to get shopping. 

“Oh totally…” she trailed off at the thought of the blonde haired super-soldier.  After what had happened Thursday; she’d been trying to come to terms with her feelings about him.  A part of her chalked it up to sleepless delirium.  She couldn’t even talk at him without sputtering or stumbling over her words.  It was a mess.  Anytime he walked into the room she immediately shifted to the mental capacity of a 13-year-old girl. 

“How’ve you been sleeping?  Steve said he talked to you,” Sam began with a concerned glance at his companion.  Emma stayed quiet.  Hopefully the silence would be answer enough.  She didn’t want to describe her latest nightmare out loud.  It was emotionally overwhelming enough.  

“I’m getting through,” she muttered, casting her eyes to the floor.  “It gets better, right?”

“Sometimes,” Sam offered quietly.  “Sometimes it doesn’t.  It just matters how you cope.  Exercise definitely helps.”

“Then I’ll probably be an assassin by the time we’re done,” she grumbled in frustration, realizing that the winged hero had walked her all the way to the guest quarters.  “Thanks.  For everything, Sam.  I probably wouldn’t have even gotten in the SUV with Steve if you hadn’t been there.”

“Hey, us warriors gotta stick together right?” he gave her a grin before pulling her into a hug.  “God, you really are just _awful_ smelling.”  He pushed her away dramatically and held his nose, backing his way down the hall. 

 “You’re the worst!” Emma shouted after him, typing in the lock-code to her door.  The door slid open and Emma tossed her bag aside, collapsing on the mattress in the corner.  The room in the Tower was significantly nicer than the one she’d stayed in up north.  The bed was softer, the fridge was better stocked and occasionally she had the option to order room service.  Hell, even her clothes were dry-cleaned daily.

She rolled on her back, staring up at the ceiling and frowning.  In her head, Emma had run through the plan for the evening a thousand times.  Tony was going to stick by her most of the night, Clint was going to scout the rafters during her speech, while Steve and Sam were serving as a backup body guards.  At the last minute Wanda, Vision, Scott and a boy named Peter were invited to the press gala, at the behest of Tony.  Apparently a few security threats had gotten in and he wanted as many team members on standby as possible. 

“If only Thor had a cell phone,” Tony complained after giving everyone their instructions.  Steve had snorted at the comment and pulled Peter aside for a brief conversation.  Emma could barely hear the murmurs between the two, but by the time they’d rejoined the rest of the team she saw Steve and the boy shake hands. 

“ _Miss Miller?_ ” FRIDAY chirped to life around Emma, startling the young woman from her daydream and nearly causing her to fall off the bed.  “My apologizes, miss.  I just wanted to remind you that Miss Potts has a stylist arriving in the next half-hour.  I might recommend you bathe and exfoliate your skin in preparation.”  

“Thanks,” Emma mumbled before sliding to her feet and trudging to the bathroom at the end of the suite.  She stripped with ease and stepped into the rainfall shower.  It began to pour and Emma relished the hot water as it hit her tired muscles.  From not being able to do a push-up to disarming Clint in under a few seconds, she certainly made some progress.  

But that wasn’t without some aches and pains.  She noted a few fresh bruises along her arm and mentally reminded herself to pick a sleeved dress for the event.  

The shower felt so amazing.  Twenty minutes into bathing, Emma had to force herself to turn the water off and step into the cool bathroom air.  She would have spent the rest of the night in there, if FRIDAY had alerted her to the stylist’s presence outside of her door.

With a last glance at her reflection in the mirror, Emma threw a robe on and opened the bedroom door. 

It was time for that old razzle dazzle.

* * *

“What are you wearing tonight?” Tony asked Steve while he prepared a cup of coffee.  Steve looked up from the newspaper article he’d been scanning and frowned.

“Pants?  Maybe a shirt?  We’ll see where the night takes us,” he chided back at the brunette who mocked offense.

“I’m sure Emma would appreciate you walking in without a shirt,” he teased, earning a smack in the arm with Steve’s newspaper.

“This isn’t a major dress-up event is it?” Steve clarified with a hollowness in his tone.  Suits and tuxes meant more places for weapons.  He’d have to adjust some security measures for safety… his mind was a million miles away when Tony interrupted his thoughts. 

“It’s formal attire, if that’s what you mean,” the genius let out a long drawn sigh while he scanned Steve over.  “I know a guy, lemme make some calls.” 

“Tony it’s-,” Steve started with his hand raised.  He wasn’t in the mood to owe Tony Stark as debt.  

“No,” Tony smiled.  “Let me do this for you.  _Trust_ me.”

Tony’s gaze burned into Steve after he sent another smile at his teammate before slipping out of the room, coffee in hand. 

Trust him?

Steve trusted Tony Stark with his life, for the most part.  The billionaire _did_ throw his closest friends in a prison for super-villains, but Steve knew Tony thought he was doing what was right in the moment. 

The Accords had torn apart all rationality between the team, but did that mean trust has to be dissolved as well?

Months ago, he wouldn’t have trusted the genius without examining every inch of the man’s motives, but now… it seemed like Tony truly had changed.  While his eyes held that same, empty gaze, Steve could see a small spark flickering. 

Tony’s family was back around him, and though guilt might be partially fueling this streak of kindness, Steve’s gut told him it was time to trust his friend again.

 _Friend_. 

“Hey,” Sam nudged Steve from his mind and smiled at the soldier.  “Nat and Clint just wrapped up with Emma.  Everyone’s starting to get ready.”

“Did you know we’re wearing tuxes?” Steve asked the flying Avenger in disbelief.  “Out of all the briefings, no one mentioned this…" 

“Dude, I’m pretty sure it was just assumed,” Sam chortled.  “Did you honestly think you’d be going to a press gala in New York City in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt?”  

Steve stammered a response about their uniforms before Sam shook his head in laughter.

“You’re hopeless,” he sighed.  “I had mine booked like a week ago, I think Clint and I got a joint order.”

Steve mumbled a less than polite word under his breath and hoped that Tony would pull through for him.  It wouldn’t be above the billionaire to hand him a bright pink tux and expect Steve to wear it the rest of the evening.  And knowing Steve, he probably would suck it up.

“You see Emma today?” Steve changed the conversation as casually as he could.  Things had been kind of awkward between him and Emma ever since the kiss.  She still talked to him, but her eyes were always focused on something else, and she refused to touch him.  That was something he couldn’t get used to.   

“She’d doing pretty well,” Sam commented, plucking an apple out of a nearby fruit basket and taking a bite.  “Disarmed Clint pretty fast.”

“Good,” Steve mused overt he thought for a moment.  An involuntary smile spread across his face at the thought of Emma tumbling across the mat and laughing amongst his teammates. 

“You making your move tonight?” Sam guessed Steve’s thoughts with a quick glance in the soldier’s direction.  “Or did you already screw that up?”

“I didn’t screw it up,” Steve countered, his face flushing at the memory of him and Emma in the hallway.  The kiss had messed him up for a while.  It’d taken all of his strength to sit still during their movie.  He’d wanted more, but the gentleman inside of him had argued reason. 

It was a good thing too. 

“You should ask her to dance,” Sam suggested with a smirk.  “There’s usually bands at these things, right?”

“How about we focus on the mission?” Steve finally breathed with a hint of frustration in his tone.  “Alan Marcel is going to be here and there’s no telling if Zemo might pop up.”

“That’s some horse shit, by the way,” Sam snorted, tossing his apple core across the room and landing it in the trash can a few feet away.  “Like a cluster of awful, mixed with shady conspiracies.  I have a few theories if you’d like to hear them.”

“Maybe later,” Steve sighed with a glance at his watch.  He probably needed a shower, and a shave.  It was more work than he’d planned for that evening. 

“Get out of here, get _pretty_ for your girl,” Sam tapped Steve on the arm and stole the newspaper from under his friend’s arms.  “Make those blue eyes _dazzle_.” 

“Gee thanks,” Steve snorted with a wave, heading to his room.  Emma’s guest quarters had been set up across the hall from Steve’s own room.  It was like they were back in Brooklyn, exchanging awkward hellos and smiles from across the hall. 

He nearly collided with Pepper when he rounded the corner to his room. 

“Hey,” she greeted, collecting herself and smiling at the hero.  “How are you?” 

It’d been a while since he’d seen the woman face to face.  If he recalled correctly, it might have been years.

“I’m doing well,” he replied with a soft shrug.  “I’m hoping Tony snagged a tux for me.”

“You’re right, I didn’t get an order from you,” she realized, her gaze clouding over as she referenced her phone.  “I’m so sorry.  I should have double checked.”

He shook his head and offered another smile to the panicked redhead. 

“It’s my fault,” he insisted and nodded toward his door hesitantly.  “If you’ll excuse me… I’ve gotta pull myself together a bit.” 

“Don’t worry too much,” Pepper called after his quietly.  “If anything, Tony does have a fantastic sense of style.”

“I’ll let him know you said that,” Steve teased while he punched in the code for his room. 

“Don’t you dare,” he vaguely heard before her heels started to click down the opposite end of the hall.  He chortled to himself before crawling into the room and closing his door. 

It was nights like this that he wished he could take a long swig of whiskey.

* * *

“Is this too much?” Emma questioned her stylist for the fifth time that evening.  “This feels like too much.”

She studied her reflection in the floor length mirror and frowned.

“I was given very clear instructions by Miss Potts,” her stylist, Alice, replied calmly.  “You look fantastic, embrace it.” 

Emma gave herself another twirl, watching the blue fabric of her dress pool around her ankles.  

Alice had chosen a stunning dark blue lace evening gown.  It fell perfectly on every curve Emma possessed and even had the added bonus of covering her bruises from training.  On top of that, Alice fixed her makeup and even trimmed the ends of Emma’s hair. 

All in all, Emma Miller looked like a completely different person.

“You’re like my fairy godmother,” Emma murmured while Alice shifted through her wardrobe for a specific piece of jewelry. 

“That’s what they pay me the big bucks for,” Alice laughed before fastening a gorgeous silver necklace around Emma’s neck.  “You look like a dream.”

Emma looked back at the mirror with Alice standing behind her and bit her lip to keep from tearing up.  She looked like a normal human being.  She had color in her cheeks and the bags under her eyes were completely gone.  Emma was almost convinced Alice had cast a spell on her.

* * *

 

Once the cars had arrived, everything occurred in a flurry.

Steve had been ushered out of the tower before Emma had finished dressing.  Tony wanted to make sure everyone was in place by the time they arrived at the venue, so that meant being a few steps ahead of the author. 

Steve was envious that Tony got to spend the majority of the night with Emma.  He wanted to be the one by her side, protecting her and watching her smile.  

Instead, he was crammed behind a small stage with a large, sweaty, man breathing over his shoulder.  Not that he was bitter.

The man lifted his arm, revealing a disgusting scent.

Who was he kidding?  Steve was _incredibly_ bitter. 

At least until Sam pulled him away to find a better vantage point.  

Everyone was in their respective positions, waiting on Emma and Tony to arrived on the scene.  Nat and Clint chatted over cocktails at the bar, while Sam pointed out some of the celebrities that passed by them.  It seemed so typical and bland.  Until Emma and Tony walked in.

When they entered the hall, the room suddenly became silent.  There was a hush, before someone started the cycle with a single flashing camera.  With Tony on her arm, cameras flocked to the author.  It was like she was a phoenix; risen from the dead.  Everyone wanted the scoop. 

Steve watched in awe while she teased some of the journalists she was familiar with, her mask slipping over the initially frightened expression she bore when she walked in. 

He’d watched Tony do it for years; slipping in and out of that persona, but it was something else when Emma did it. 

Maybe it’s because he’d caught a few snippets of her nightmares, or even spied a few tears when he found her staring blankly at her laptop. 

In hindsight, he should have paid better attention to his friend over the years. 

While she walked through the crowd, sending an occasional wave or grin toward a camera, Tony edged her along toward the main dining area.  The venue was sectioned off of in three main places; the dining area, the dancing area/bar, and the stage. 

The plan was for Pepper to say a few words on behalf of Stark Pictures, the newly revived film division of Stark Industries and introduce the cast and crew for the film.  They would say a few things, Tony would introduce Emma and she’d tease a sequel for her novel.  Cut and dry.  

Though at some point Tony mentioned that Emma would be whisked away for a question and answer session.

They needed eyes on her at all times. 

Not that _this_ would be a problem for Steve.

“That dress is almost cruel,” Sam muttered next to Steve, peering over his shoulder at the brunette woman.  Steve could feel his neck warm at the comment. 

His friend wasn’t lying.  The dark blue dress did wonders for Emma.  It trailed from the floor, over the curves of her body and up to her arms; ending in a delicate blue lace around her wrists.

It was so simple, yet irritatingly teased so much, not that Steve would ever mention that to her.  Or _anyone_.  He _was_ a gentleman after all. 

“Have you done a facial scan of the crowd?” Steve changed the subject, his voice cracking slightly.  Something that Stark caught onto immediately.

“Cap’s got blue balls,” Tony murmured through the headsets, earning a snort from Sam.  Emma looked over at Tony, following his eye line to where Steve and Sam were standing next to the stage.  She gave an excited wave before leaning into the billionaire across her seat.

 _They look very nice._   He distinctly heard her compliment through the line. 

“I’ve got Marcel walking in,” Clint announced, interrupting the jokes.  All eyes casually shot to the back of the venue where a round man with a cane entered with his stunning wife.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” Nat murmured, taking a long sip of champagne a few tables away from Emma and Tony.  “He looks like an actual ham.  Like a processed piece of meat.” 

Steve kept his eyes trained on Emma while she posed for a photo with Peter Parker.  The kid was posing as her intern for the evening, excitedly chatting with Emma about her novel and Stark Industries.

When the ceremonies began, Steve watched Emma take a few nervous sips from her champagne glass.  Even though she was all smiles, Steve could see the subtle shake of her hand when she set the glass back on the table.  She was terrified.

At one point, Tony reached over and set a reassuring hand on her arm. 

The touch was innocent enough, but Steve had to look away and distract himself with Alan Marcel while the two celebrities chatted quietly.  He was being a child, but he wanted to be the one comforting her.  Instead of sending the occasional encouraging smile in her direction.

Alan Marcel had at least three armed security members around him at all times.  His wife, had a young woman with a small pistol tucked under her dress as her protection.  Seemed a bit excessive for someone who was supposed to be schmoozing and endorsing a film.

Marcel’s attention would occasionally fall on Emma and Tony, despite the distractions on the stage.  Steve didn’t like the way the man studied Emma and murmur to his security detail. 

So far, Steve wasn’t a fan of this evening at all.

It was either being irritated by Tony touching Emma or being irritated by Alan Marcel _watching_ Emma. 

What had he gotten himself into?

“You look like you could use a drink,” Natasha appeared at Steve’s side and laughed, her eyes tracking the soldier’s line of sight to Emma.

“Pity it wouldn’t do anything,” Steve sighed and leaned up against the wall, his hands in his pockets.

“You’re sulking,” Natasha pointed out with a smirk.  “Who knew Steve Rogers sulked?”

"I’m very brooding,” he pointed out.  “I’m a man out of time, remember?”

She took a spot next to Steve on the wall and leaned her weight on the surface.

“That’s _right_ , the man out of time,” she repeated with a long drag of her drink.  Her green gaze locked on Emma.  “Falling for the woman out of place.”

“Go figure,” Steve sighed and ran a hand through his blonde locks.  “When is she supposed to speak?”

“After this shumuck,” Nat noted with a nod toward the director of the film who was plugging his newest release.  Steve hummed in acknowledgement and tried to focus on the mission.  But out of the corner of his eye he saw Tony leading Emma toward the stage with a gentle touch on the back of her elbow. 

He looked away, his neck burning in embarrassment.  He felt like a child.  Possessive of something that wasn’t even his. 

Natasha noted his body language and shook her head.

“It’ll be over in a second,” she commented and glanced toward Marcel again.  “Our _friend_ hasn’t moved at all.”

“I don’t like it,” Steve muttered under her breath.  He reached for his comm and turned it on the mic.  “Sam?  You got eyes outside?" 

 _“Nothing crazy out here,”_ the flying avenger reported back.  Steve ran through the team with everyone reporting no change in status.  It was too quiet. 

The audience let out a laugh at a joke Emma made and he released some of the tension in his shoulders watching the brunette smile and shuffle her cards. 

Steve glanced away when Tony emerged back on the stage and threw an arm around Emma’s shoulders.  The cameras began flashing like crazy and Emma was escorted off the stage. 

Without Tony. 

Without _anyone_. 

It took ten seconds and Emma was gone.

“Scott, Peter, status?” Steve questioned into his comm, his body tensing.  Nat saw the change in composure and set her glass down, hurrying toward the back of the venue. 

“ _She never come through the door_ ,” Peter finally reported.  “ _We lost sight_.  _I’m so sorry._ ”


	13. Sins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaayyy! Another update! I've been on a roll this week!   
> Thanks for all the support ! :)

* * *

 

Emma was pulled away the moment she stepped off of the stage.  She wasn’t too surprised by the turn of events; Tony had warned her that the press would want a Q & A. 

The problem was that she recognized no one around her, and she was being forcibly dragged in a direction opposite to the press room.  Their movements were subtle. 

If Emma was being kidnapped, she could barely tell herself. 

It was only when she tried to excuse herself to use the restroom, when a threat was murmured in her ear and she was pushed toward their destination. After winding halls and unlocked doors, they paused in front of an isolated dressing room on the other end of the venue.

She was shoved through a pair of metal doors without much pomp and circumstance, nearly ripping the hem of her dress when she stumbled forward onto the linoleum.

When Emma looked up, she saw a familiar pair of eyes that pierced like ice into her chest.

“ _Alec_ ,” she whispered, her voice faltering at the sight of her ex-fiancé.  He was sitting next to Helmut, his leg crossed casually over his knee.  He sent a smirk to the brunette before glancing to Zemo. 

“I told him you’d be stupid enough to crawl out of your hole for this,” Alec explained with a laugh.  “’ _She’s got this thing about honor_ ,’ I told him.  ‘ _She’ll be there_.’”

“You’re supposed to be in prison,” Emma stammered, still processing the face of her former flame.  This was not part of the plan.  She wasn’t supposed to be separated from the team.  Where was Tony?  Where was _Steve_?  She wanted to sob as the rush of emotions swept up from under her and paralyzed her in place. 

So much for the training.

“My friend needed a favor,” Alec shrugged nonchalantly toward the still silent Zemo.  “Pull a few strings, kill a few SHIELD agents… easy-peasy.  Been doing this a while babe, remember?”

Emma absently took a step back, only to be shoved forward onto the ground by a large guard. 

“Then kill me and get this over with,” she hissed, her knees burning in pain from the fall.  “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Dear _Emilya_ ,” Helmut held a hand up before Alec could speak.  “I’m here on behalf of your brother.  As a _friend_.”  He stepped toward the disheveled author and offered a hand, helping her to stand. 

“Where is he?” Emma questioned, her expression frantic at the mention of her older brother.   Helmut’s eyes went to the ground and he frowned, still holding onto Emma’s hand.

“He perished a few months ago,” he replied quietly.  “In Siberia." 

 _Siberia_ … Emma mouthed the words slowly, registering the information.  She yanked her hand from his grasp and stepped back.  That couldn’t be true.

“I understand this is difficult for you, but it’s important to know that Henry died an honorable death,” Zemo continued despite Emma’s scowl.  “He was avenging your _father_ after all.”

Emma took a sharp breath and looked to Alec, who continued smirking in the corner.  She felt sick.  

“Henry was a traitor,” Alec announced sharply, laughing.  “Thought he could fool HYDRA.  _Idiot_.”

Emma froze.  Henry _was_ HYDRA, wasn’t he?

“What?” her expression dropped while she tried to piece the information together.  A guard stepped forward to grab her arm at the sudden movement while Zemo explained further.

“Henry Miller had his own motives, his own reasons for joining HYDRA,” Zemo explained.  “He was a good man.  Noble, almost.  But unfortunately our friendship was severed shortly before the Accords.” 

“He intended to kill me the same afternoon I killed the other soldiers,” Zemo paused.  “It was his revenge for killing his father many years ago.  Poor Jeffery had gotten too caught up in a conflict he couldn’t control and _things_ happen.  Henry simply did not understand that.”

The information hit Emma hard.  Helmut Zemo murdered her father. 

The world shifted and she tried to charge at the Sokovian but was met with a firm knee in the stomach.  She dropped instantly, clutching herself and letting a small whimper escape.

“Why are you telling me this?” she coughed, her gaze wavering while Alec walked up and held her chin up. 

“Because Henry was in the facility the same day as the Avengers,” Alec murmured, his face irritatingly close to Emma’s.  She could feel his warm breath on her cheeks, her stomach churning at his physical touch.  She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened around her chin.  “And your friends were too _busy_ with their agendas to check for casualties or _survivors_.”

“Steve Rogers and Tony Stark burned the building to the ground, and poor Henry was locked in a room, bleeding and suffering until the very end,” Zemo turned his back to Emma, pondering the memory a moment.  “It’s funny how these little things come together, isn’t that right Emilya?”

“You do not get to call me _that_ ,” Emma spat, Alec kept his grip on Emma’s cheeks, his smile widening.  “You betrayed him.  He gave you the coordinates…!" 

“I gave Helmut the coordinates, I set Henry up,” Alec finally admitted with a grin.  He took his free hand and traced the outline of Emma’s neck.  When she struggled toward him, one of the guards grabbed her other arm from behind, restraining any action.  “He betrayed HYDRA.  He wanted to destroy the soldier program and take HYDRA down.  He knew too much and he was reporting it back to SHIELD.  Couldn’t let him get too far, could we?  Besides, personal vendettas are just too much fun.”

“You let Helmut…” she tried to speak.  “He killed the soldiers anyway…”

“I made a decision that day.  HYDRA was falling to the ground; the assets were nothing of a loss.  It was more important to cut loose ends.  Sitwell and Marcel were working on a more positive program.  Stronger results and the volunteers were _more_ willing,” Alec released Emma’s chin and stood up, holding his hand up to one of the guards.  A stoic man by the door passed off a pistol to the HYDRA agent.

Alec returned, the weapon pressed against Emma’s stomach. 

“And what we need, dear Emilya,” he repeated her birth name with laughter on his tongue.  “Is a little line of code from that information you stole.”

Emma remained silent.  Her eyes were trained on a single spot on the floor while she weighed her options. 

“Just kill me,” she finally relented with a sigh.  “I’m not helping you with _shit_.”

“Tried to do this the easy way,” he commented with a look around the room.

Alec pulled the trigger with no hesitation.  The blast shot through Emma’s side and she let out a screech of pain.  Alec grabbed her face and pulled her close again. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll die soon enough, but I want you to watch every person you’ve loved suffer,” he hissed.  Emma could barely make out his threat, her mind hazy from the agony in her side.  “Emma Miller you are nothing.  You mean nothing and your loss will impact no one. The only reason you’re still alive is _luck_ and _circumstance_.”

He dropped her to the ground and paused a moment, as if musing another thought.  He whirled around and dug his shoe into her other side, knocking the wind from her.

“Tell Captain Rogers I say hello,” he growled before parting the room.  Emma tried to lift her head from the ground, her eyes trailing over Helmut Zemo’s form before dropping to the floor. 

Her head swam in and out of consciousness before sweet, peaceful, darkness wrapped itself around her. 

* * *

The search for Emma began the instant she disappeared from sight.

Steve sprinted to the side doors of the stage, but found they’d been barred off.  Fortunately, Tony was creating a distraction for the rest of the crowd while the Avengers scrambled for the missing author. 

It’d only been moments before Steve heard the gunshot. 

He almost mistook it for a broken glass, it was so soft in the distance, but Steve knew the sound of a pistol when he heard one.

He rounded the building, sprinting down back halls and tugging at fire doors that had been conveniently sealed shut. 

Steve knew this was a bad idea.  He should have talked Emma out of it.

He charged at one of the doors with his shoulder, the hinges snapping under the pressure, and he continued searching the rooms for Emma. 

It was a light whimper of pain that drew his attention to a tucked away alcove.  Whoever had been there had long fled, but they’d left the doors wide open. 

Emma was on the ground, a pool of blood surrounding her. 

“I got eyes on Emma, I need med evac, _now_ ,” Steve ordered to the team, sprinting to Emma’s pale form and gently turning her over.  The wound was nasty.  She’d clearly taken the hit up close as the fabric around the wound was burned slightly. 

He ripped off the sleeve of his tux and started to mend the injury.  He needed to stop the bleeding. 

Emma stirred slightly at his touch, her unfocused gaze falling on him while he worked. 

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” she murmured, her head rolling back to the side and eyes staring blankly into the distance.  Steve shook his head and continued pressing into the injury.  

“This isn’t your fault,” he assured her, trying to keep her conscious.  She was slipping in and out, occasionally muttering incoherently or closing her eyes.  “Emma, please.” 

This was his fault.  This was all his fault. 

So much blood. 

He should have been by her side the whole night.  He shouldn’t have looked away while she was on stage.  He should have made sure Scott and Peter were ready to receive her when she walked off. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Clint was the next person through the door, dropping to Emma’s side the moment he saw his injured friend.  Steve was sure he looked like a sight, covered in the brunette’s blood as he had helplessly tried to keep her from bleeding out. 

Fortunately, Clint had a first aid kit.  It was definitely better than the tux sleeve Steve had been using. 

The archer did as much as he could in the field, barely stabilizing Emma before he and Steve carried her through the back doors to a waiting car.  Natasha and Pepper were busy dealing with the press, explaining how the author felt sick after her speech and had to leave early. 

They didn’t want a repeat of the Today Show incident.  Tony explained that if the public started getting wind of Miller being attacked, the plan couldn’t move forward.

Tony called it a public relations nightmare.  

Steve just called it a nightmare.  There was no way he was going to let Emma put herself in harms way again. 

He couldn’t leave Emma’s side.  

The next few hours happened in a daze.  Steve sat aside watching through glass while Tony’s team of doctors removed the bullet from her abdomen.  His eyes were just trained on her pale face.  

 _I’m sorry._ Why was she sorry?  He was the one who’d failed her.

By the time dawn arrived, Natasha had brought him a fresh pair of sweats.  He absently changed and tossed the blood-covered tux to the side, rinsing the remainder of Emma’s blood off of his fingers in the bathroom. 

When the surgery was over, Steve was immediately back at Emma’s side, his chair pulled up and his hand gripping hers. 

He didn’t know what time it was, or even what day it was, when Tony approached him and set a soft hand on his shoulder.

“You should get some actual rest,” he suggested.  “She’ll be fine.  It looked worse than it was.”

“She was _shot_ ,” Steve stated dryly.  “Because we couldn’t keep her safe.  We had one job Tony.  You knew Marcel was going to be there…”

“She knew the risks,” Tony replied, stroking his goatee and watching Emma take her steady breaths.  “I doubt she’d want you fretting over her like this.”   

Steve squeezed Emma’s hand.  It was so small compared to his, so _fragile_.  How many times had he held this tiny hand?  His mind flashed back to Central Park where she’d held his hand and grinned.

_You have artist’s hands._

He frowned.

“Do you think it was Zemo?” he asked the billionaire, his mind switching from Steve Rogers to Captain Rogers. 

Tony shifted with uncertainty.  He knew something he wasn’t telling Steve.

“What is it?” Steve narrowed his gaze dangerously.  It was always games. 

“Alec Reynolds escaped holding during a transfer two nights ago,” Tony explained quickly.  “I found out right after we tracked Emma down.  Wanda and Sam have been searching for him since.”

_Alec Reynolds._

“Could Reynolds have gotten in?” Steve tried his best to control the rage that surfaced in his tone.  “No one was supposed to get in unless we cleared it.  _How_ did he get in?” 

“The back doors were busted open during the show.  They slipped in without a trace,” Tony looked genuinely remorseful, his tone faltering as he explained.  “I didn’t… I didn’t see any of this coming.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Steve replied bitterly, Emma shifted fitfully in her sleep.  “You were more interested in pulling Zemo out.  This was never about her safety.”

“She _volunteered_ ,” Tony insisted with a shout but Steve stood up, towering over the genius. 

“With the understanding we would _protect_ her,” he clarified sharply.  “You let your ego get the slip and she got hurt.”

“Just because you have a _crush_ doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be focusing on HYDRA,” Tony pointed out as the tension built in the small medical bay.  “Emma understood that.”

“Don’t pretend you know _anything_ about what she wanted,” Steve snapped with a shake of his head.  He was pacing now, his exhaustion and frustration getting the best of him.  

“Did you tell you about the card?  Or how she would ask me after every mission about the status of her brother?  Did she tell you about the police reports?  The beatings she took from Alec Reynolds’ hands almost daily?  That’s why she flinches, you know,” Tony was in Steve’s face now.  “She knew the decision she made.  She knew what had to be done.  Even if you didn’t.”

Steve took a step back.  Reynolds and Zemo… they were _winning_.

HYDRA had gotten to every member of this team, digging and tearing them apart.  It was what Zemo wanted.  It was what everyone wanted.  Steve could almost picture Alec watching the fight unfold with glee.

“I’m sorry,” Steve finally murmured, his head hanging and his blue gaze flickering back to Emma.  “About everything.  The lies, the deception… it’s gone too far.” 

“Then let’s stop these bastards,” Tony cupped his hand on Steve’s shoulder and lingered there a moment.  “They won’t know what hit them.”

* * *

Emma woke to the soft hum of classic rock.

The room was a sterile white, and the first sensation she noticed was the ache in her side. 

It felt like a crocodile had taken a chunk out of her.

Lazily she rolled her head to the side and saw Clint tinkering with the tip of one of his arrows.  His finger slipped, slicing itself on one of the edges and he cursed under his breath, taking the wound into his mouth. 

“I told you to wear gloves,” she mumbled, her voice raspy and unfamiliar.  How long had she been out?  What the hell had even happened?

His face lit up at the sound and immediately he tossed the weapon aside. 

“Hey kiddo,” he greeted with a smile, nudging his chair closer to the author.  “How are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” she admitted, her eyes closing slowly while she adjusted to the sensor overload.  “Where am I?”

“Back at the tower,” he explained softly.  “You were shot a few nights ago.  We’ve been waiting for you to wake up." 

That’s _right_.  Alec had shot her.  As if a physical reminder, her side ached in protest. 

Her mind whirled at the thought.

_Tell Captain Rogers I say hello._

“Alec’s free,” she gasped in realization.  She started to sit up but was pushed back down by Clint’s hand.  “He’s escaped, Zemo…”

Zemo killed her family.  He murdered her father.  He betrayed Henry. 

“We know,” Clint nodded.  “I swear Steve won’t sleep a wink until he finds the guy.  Marcel is apparently MIA as well.  We’ll get a debriefing from you once you’ve rested a bit more.  Took a pretty bad hit, I’m a little impressed.”

He ruffled the top of Emma’s hair and smiled sadly at her.  He’d been worried. 

“You know me, above and beyond,” she grumbled into her pillow.  She closed her eyes again.  She was exhausted.  “Zemo was there…” she added softly, her mind running in all directions.  Clint raised an eyebrow.  

“Did he tell you anything?” he questioned.  Emma knew the archer was supposed to wait until an official debriefing, but she chalked his curiosity to genuine concern. 

“Henry is dead,” she replied, her voice flat and emotionless.  It felt so strange saying it out loud.  “When Zemo took out the other soldiers, he was in the building.  When it exploded,” she choked back the thought of Steve and Tony fighting aimlessly while her older brother struggled for his life. 

She couldn’t continue.

“You should get some more rest,” Clint murmured, pulling the crisp, white hospital blanket over her shoulders.  She watched him while he fussed with her IV line and pulled a small vial out of a nearby counter.  “I’ll let the others know you woke up." 

What Clint didn’t realize was that Emma was coherent enough to understand what he’d said between the lines. 

_I’ll let Steve know you’re awake._

* * *

Alec Reynolds plopped down on the worn couch of the HYDRA safe house.

It had been too easy.

Emma was predictably stubborn and now the Avengers were on a wild goose chase for him and Zemo.  

Meanwhile Marcel and a team of HYDRA scientists were finishing out the little details of their project.  It was going to be the third round of trial subjects, the first batch in a little over a decade.  Losing Sitwell had certainly been a setback.

He’d been told early in his career with HYDRA that control would be secured when the world wanted it.  Even if it meant a little encouragement.  A little push.

Releasing violent youths onto the streets.  Causing terror, unrest, social disorder.

It was too easy. 

Emma Miller thought she was doing the right thing by publishing their secrets.  She thought she could end the organization by stealing some recipes for destruction.  She was ridiculously naïve.  It almost reminded him of when a certain super soldier thought he stopped HYDRA by dropping a plane in the arctic.

HYDRA was more than that.  They’d wrapped themselves around every aspect of society.  HYDRA was doctors, lawyers, senators… they were the woman who served coffee every morning.  HYDRA was everywhere and it was only growing stronger.

A young man in his twenties entered the living room, his irritation at seeing Alec apparent by the snort he gave. 

“Alan wants to see you,” the young man reported.  He folded his arms across his chest and stared Alec down.  “He’s not happy.”

Alec rolled his eyes.  The brunette man had been on his last nerve since they’d arrived at the safe house in Detroit. 

“What’d I do this time?” Alec mumbled, pulling himself up from the seat and shoving past the younger man.

“He needs more _syringes_ ,” the brunette’s smirk served to further annoy Alec while he charged past and headed toward the basement of the building.

Alec had no personal qualms with the other man.  They’d never fought directly, aside from the occasional sneers they sent each other.  Though Alec did have some theories as to the source of his anger.

Part of it was the fact the younger man was a higher ranking official in HYDRA, being years younger than Alec himself, it felt like a slap in the face.

The other part was that the brunette’s smirk reminded him too much of Emma Miller.

I did make sense after all.  The younger man was Jordan Miller, her youngest brother. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUT THAT'S NONE OF MY BUSINESS.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	14. Alive

* * *

 

It’d been a cold afternoon when Emma entered the warm, familiar house on Woodward Ave.  

Her whole family was circled around the dining room table, greeting her when she walked in.

When she’d exclaimed how surprised she was to see her father, he laughed.

“ _Emilya_ , have you been caught in your daydreams again?” he mused using her full name, a name inherited from her Eastern European grandmother.  He was the only one who’d insisted on calling her by it.

 _It was an honor_ ; he would remind her when she complained of how complicated it was.

Jordan was helping her mother in the kitchen while Henry pulled a chair out at the table for Emma. 

It was Thanksgiving, she realized.  The family was sitting in the dining room at their house in Detroit.  The one that had burnt down years previously.  Pictures from her childhood were pinned around the room.  Childish scribbles of her and her family on various adventures.

Henry reached over and grabbed a roll from the center of the table, tossing it at Emma to pull her attention back to him.

“I didn’t think you’d miss me this much,” he laughed.  “Coming all the way back from New York City to see your big brother."

Of course she missed him.  He’d died.  Hadn’t he?

Before the words could come out, a shadow covered the room and Alec stepped in.  Her mother greeted him and offered him a bite of the mashed potatoes they were finishing up.

“Your fiancé is very handsome,” Emma’s father chuckled.  “But us Millers are always lucky.”

He sent a fond look toward her mother.

Yes.  Alec was her fiancé.

Alec crept a hand around her waist, pulling tighter and tighter.  She couldn’t breath.

Didn’t anyone see he was causing her pain?  Her father laughed as Emma tried to tell them what was happening. 

“You’re so funny!” her mother giggled, placing the turkey in the center of the table.

Alec slipped a knife off of the table and while looking at Henry, slipped the edge between Emma’s ribs. 

“I’ll always be with her,” he smiled, twisting the knife.

No matter how much Emma tried to shout or speak, nothing came out. 

She was in agony.  Her father laughed and laughed.  Her mother and Jordan joined in on the fun, sitting down and clapping as Alec spoke.

Eventually she fell out of the chair and the moment she hit the ground, she awoke with a start in the Tower’s medical bay.

Gasping for air, she regained her bearings by focusing on the room around her.  The sun was beginning to rise in the distance, casting a warm glow around the room.  She was safe.  For the most part. 

The gentle beeping of her heart monitor provided a good metronome for her sanity, slowly decreasing its frequency until Emma was calm again. 

She wiped the sweat at her forehead with the edge of her blanket, noting how foul she smelled.  She must have been tossing and turning for a few hours. 

Emma was exhausted.  She stared at the foot of her bed noting that for the first time since she’d been in the medical bay, she was completely alone.

Steve had visited a few times after she initially woke up, usually bringing her food from some of her favorite restaurants.  He was polite enough, but Emma knew he was holding back something.  The pained glances he sent her whenever she winced or asked about his search for Alec were indication enough that he was hiding a secret.

Or maybe Emma was overthinking it.  She was on a steady flow of pain medications, which had made her dreams more vivid, in turn making her sleep more fitful.  She’d sworn she saw a cat walk through the med bay a few afternoons previously, but had brushed the sight aside as a sleepless delusion.

It sucked though, because this time Steve wasn’t going to push her against a wall and kiss her until she fell asleep. 

The silence in the bay was beginning to unnerve Emma.  Usually someone would have poked their head in or checked her vitals after noticing she was awake.  Sure, it’d only been a few days since she’d even landed in the facility, but she quickly picked up on the doctors and the Avengers’ patterns.

It took a quick rearrangement of her IV line before she was able to slip away from the bed, her pain medications in tow.  She’d barely gone five feet outside of the medical bay before she was stopped by Natasha. 

“Nice to see you joining the party,” the red head commented with a small eye-roll.  “King T’Challa arrived early this morning and I’m pretty sure Peter is going to faint from swooning so much.”

Emma recognized the name immediately.  _Another_ costumed hero.  Her mind wandered to the possibility of snagging her own mantel in the superhero community before Natasha spoke again. 

“Anyway, Dr. Cho is finally back in town with the Cradle.  Since you haven’t had any infections or anything we should be able to get your side good as new by this afternoon,” she sent a strained smile to the author.  She looked as exhausted as Emma felt.  Had Natasha been wearing that same outfit the day before?

That’s when Emma realized she didn’t even know the extent of what the team had been doing while she was recovering.  Heck, she didn’t even know why T’Challa was in New York. 

“Do you think I could start training again?” she questioned while Nat led her back to the medical bay.  “I’d like help as much as I can.”

Natasha seemed surprised by the request.  Her brows arched a moment in shock before setting into the cool mask that Emma was beginning to grow accustomed to.  

“We can get to work tonight,” came the spy’s response.  She helped Emma settle back into the bed and advised the author to sleep a little more before Dr. Cho arrived.  “You’re going to need it.”  She added with a light laugh.  

Emma watched the red head saunter out of the bay and began to regret the suggestion that she begin training again. 

Natasha was going to kick her ass.

* * *

Steve and Tony had spent the better part of the week digging through the rubble in Siberia. 

After Emma’s debriefing about Alec and Zemo, he felt the least he could do was find Henry Miller and give him a proper burial.  

The worse part, to Steve, was that Henry had been under direct orders from Coulson to stay in HYDRA and pull as much information as he could.  It was such a deep cover that the older Miller sibling had been left on his own once his identity was compromised. 

Steve insisted that Henry’s name be added to the list of fallen agents engraved in the wall at the recently rebuilt Triskellion.  Tony saw that Hill and Fury updated Henry’s file appropriately and he was given significant honors post-humously.  

It didn’t take the pair long to find the frozen body of Henry Miller, tucked away in a catacomb of the base.  His hands had been bound and he was covered in bruises that were saved in place by the sub-zero temperatures.  It was almost like he’d died that afternoon, as opposed to months previously. 

Steve and Tony exchanged no words while they loaded the body into a black bag and carried it back to the jet.  What was there to say?  This one was all on them.

Once Henry was secure, Tony ran a scan through one of the salvaged hard drives and sat back in the jet while it loaded.  The two of them had insisted to the team that they be the only ones that go on this particular mission.  

It was sobering to sit across from a friend, an enemy and a teammate rolled into a single entity. 

Steve pulled his helmet off and plopped down in a nearby seat, letting out a long held sigh and closing his eyes.

“At least we found him,” Tony commented, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.  He tapped on the screen of his tablet and kept his eyes fixed down. 

Steve let out a dry laugh. 

“We did,” he agreed, running a tired hand through his blonde locks.  “Though I was kind of hoping he was hiding out in a cave, _alive_.”

Tony leaned back in his seat and sent a glance at the super-soldier over his shoulder.

“God, that would be something that happens to us,” he realized with a smirk.  “No one is actually dead.  _Ever_.  Just misplaced." 

“Seems to be the pattern these days,” Steve nodded, pulling off his gloves and throwing them to the side.  “Speaking of which, you get ahold of T’Challa yet?”

“He’s en route to the Tower as we speak,” Tony provided with a quick glance at the clock in the jet.  “Actually he’s probably already there.  We can get going once I finish this download, should only be ten more minutes.” 

Steve closed his eyes again and let out a grunt of understanding to the billionaire. 

They’d have a few hours before arriving back in New York, more than enough time for him to catch up on some much needed sleep before confronting the others.  

The team had been hard at work since the ordeal at the gala.  Between all of them, they’d seized enough HYDRA bases to get a decent idea of what Marcel was up to, and were able to track down a few locations where Alec Reynolds and Zemo had been seen last. 

There was also the internal debate in whether or not he was at liberty to share their information with Emma.  Tony didn’t seem to care, in his mind they were all on the same side, but Natasha and Clint had warned what happens when someone is in a sensitive place mentally.

More than that, Steve was following a number of leads that were pushing him toward Detroit.  He didn’t like where it was heading, especially given a that a number of the “volunteers” that Alec had bragged to Emma about hadn’t given full consent to the tests HYDRA was conducting. 

They’d been school children, given “flu” vaccines that developed into something else.

The team wasn’t clear on the specifics, but Steve realized early on that HYDRA was always in it for the long haul.  They never operated short-term.

He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, but Steve stirred slightly when Tony started the jet and began their return back to New York. 

He could hear his goatee-d companion heave a long yawn before settling into the pilot seat. 

There was a brief pause before FRIDAY confirmed auto-pilot and gave Tony an estimated time of arrival. 

It didn’t take long after that before Steve picked up Tony’s small snores.

Emotionally and physically, the week had taken so much out of the men. 

And it was only Thursday.

* * *

“It hurts _so_ much,” Clint leaned into Emma while Dr. Helen Cho prepared the Cradle around her.  Natasha sent a smack into Clint’s shoulder before reassuring Emma that it was practically painless.

“It might tickle, if anything,” Dr. Cho added with a laugh.  “Unfortunately the section of Mr. Barton’s body that had been injured previously contained his sense of humor and I can’t replicate that.”

She pressed down on a button and the machine buzzed to life, threading new tissue over the hole in Emma’s side.  It was fascinating, to say the very least.  She felt like she was in a sci-fi movie.

“And just like that?” Emma’s eyes widened while the machine worked, her skin in some areas healing as good as new.  “No scarring?  _Nothing_?”

“Nothing,” Dr. Cho grinned.  “I’ve been fortunate that Mr. Stark has been very invested in my technology.”

Emma hummed in agreement and continued to watch the machine work. 

Physically, she didn’t feel a thing.  The nerves surrounding the wound had been desensitized to allow for the grow and reproduction of new tissue.  But mentally, Emma’s mind was abuzz. 

Initially she didn’t understand how Vision came into being, despite Tony explaining it to her multiple times.  But seeing the technology at work… She was awe-struck at the ingenuity of mankind.

“All set,” Dr. Cho announced, pulling back an arm of the Cradle and helping Emma to sit up.  The author ran a hand down her newly healed since and breathed in surprise. 

It was like nothing had happened.  She felt as good as she did the night of the gala. 

“Holy crap,” Emma finally murmured.  “You literally just regrew my side." 

Dr. Cho sent an amused grin toward Clint and Natasha who simply shrugged at the young woman’s response. 

“I did,” she agreed while Emma jumped down and twisted her arms, flexing her waist.

“If I could physically do a front flip, I would totally be doing a front flip right now,” she laughed, touching her side again.  “ _Wow_.”

 As if on cue, Vision and Wanda walked into the room.  The android looked amused at Emma’s reaction. 

“The technology is certainly amazing,” he noted looking at his own hand.  “The power to create cells, and tissue.  To create _life_.  Dr. Cho is incredibly gifted.”

The doctor blushed at the compliment before changing the subject.  She needed Vision to stay behind for a brief check-up and soon everyone filtered out of the room.

“Do I finally get to teach you a weapon?” Clint questioned while they made their way to the kitchen.  “Because I’m thinking a bo staff.  You can’t really hurt yourself with a stick.”

Wanda snorted at the comment and sat down at the island. 

“Why not batons?” Natasha suggested, grabbing an orange out of the center of the table and beginning to peel at it. 

“ _Two_ sticks might be too much,” Clint retorted with a smirk at Emma.  The author scowled. 

“Does it have to be a weapon from the Paleolithic era?  Why not a rocket launcher?” she suggested excitedly. 

“Knives?” Wanda suggested with a look to Nat and Clint who weighed the option.  “They do more damage than a _stick_.” 

“I’m thinking a full Iron Man suit,” Emma continued on her ramble, holding her hand up for emphasis.  “ _Iron Maiden_.  I think it has a nice ring.”

“You’ll get sued for copyright infringement,” Clint snorted.  “What if we add Nat’s spiderbites to the staff?" 

“I think it’d be _electrifying_ ,” Natasha joked dryly, earning a proud grin from Clint.  “And actually a pretty decent idea.”

They shot ideas back and forth until it was settled that Emma would begin training that evening with Natasha in hand to hand.  The rest of the schedule panned out effortlessly.  She’d work with Wanda on dealing with enhanced beings, Clint would train her with the bo staff.  

He drew a quick doodle on a napkin and tucked it into his pocket.  

“I’ll get this to Tony when he gets back,” he stated mysteriously.  “And let’s keep this quiet from Steve for the time being.  I don’t think Mister America will be too keen on his girl going back into the field.” 

“Wait, I’m actually going _back_ into the field?” Emma couldn’t contain her shock.  “I thought this was just…”

“In case of emergency?” Natasha guessed, plopping an orange slice into her mouth.

“Or something,” Emma muttered.  She certainly didn’t imagine herself suiting up and fighting along the team.

“Please,” Clint folded his arms across his chest.  “You’re the biggest liability on the team _and_ the only way we’ll be able to drag Alec out of his cave.  You should stand a fighting chance." 

“Besides,” Wanda grinned.  “You’ll be begging to get _out_ by the time we get down with you.” 

The comment sent a shiver down Emma’s spine, but she wasn’t sure if it was from fear or excitement. 

“Do I get a cool nickname?” she asked once Natasha tossed the remnants of her orange into the trash bin and nodded toward the gym, indicating it was time for training.

“How do you feel about spiders?” the red head questioned with a smirk before the pair disappeared down a hallway.

 Clint and Wanda remained in the kitchen. 

“You sure this is a good idea?” Wanda asked quietly. 

“Definitely,” Clint nodded and plucked an apple out of the center basket.  He took a large bite before continuing.  “SHIELD agents go through this kind of training all the time.” 

“SHIELD agents are not anxious authors with no physical background,” Wanda pointed out.  

“Eh, I was a carnie with a talent with a bow and arrow,” he swallowed his bite.  “To-may-toe, To-mah-toe.  She’ll be ready this time.  Hell, she’s taken more bullets than most of this team.  She'll toughen up."

  

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter! Hurray!
> 
> Also if anyone is interested in following my trash blog on tumblr, my url is hashtagswaghashtagblessed
> 
> I post a lot of Marvel; like a gross amount.
> 
> Stay tuned for more!


	15. Aftershocks

* * *

 

Maybe it’s because Emma never saw the body.  Or had a relationship with Henry after their falling out a few years back, but his death wasn’t hitting her the same way her father’s had.

 Granted, she’d been busy since finding out the news of his death.  Some of the time being spent unconscious from pain medications, so she didn’t have a lot of time to grieve.

When Emma woke up the day after being treated with the Cradle, her first thoughts were what Wanda had in store for her that morning.  She hadn’t thought Alec.  Or Henry, or even Zemo.  

She couldn’t.  Not yet.  Emma knew her mind and her emotions, and she knew that letting herself slip into that thinking would lead her down a spiral she wouldn’t be able to return from, or so she'd experienced in the past.

Maybe Clint and Natasha knew this.  Maybe that’s why they wanted to distract her with training. 

She dressed herself and quickly made her way to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before getting to work.  She hadn’t been briefed on any of the progress the team had made, probably for the same reasons she didn’t think about Henry. 

It was just too much, too soon.

She grabbed a cup of yogurt and sat down at the counter, pausing in thought when she realized that once again, she was completely alone. 

Someone really needed to start a group chat or write notes or something. 

She was supposed to meet Wanda in the kitchen five minutes ago, yet the psychic was nowhere to be found.  Even the TV that usually hummed in the background of the room had been turned off. 

It was eerily quiet.

“FRIDAY?” Emma almost startled herself by the sound of her own voice.

 _“Yes Miss?”_ the AI replied instantly. 

“Where is everyone?” she questioned, scooping the last bit of her yogurt into her mouth.

_“It seems that Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers arrived early this morning.  The team is in the medical bay and meeting room 2, respectively.”_

Steve was back.  Emma had to fight down the conflicting emotions that arose when she thought of the super soldier and former neighbor. 

“Where is-,” she paused.  “Captain Rogers…?”  she practically squeaked the last part out, embarrassed at her particular interest in the Avenger.

“ _Presently, Captain Rogers is in the medical bay_ ,” FRIDAY stated before silence fell throughout the room again.

Medical bay.  Emma looked at a nearby clock.  Wanda was late anyway, so she was sure she could milk a few minutes to say hello to Steve.

After tossing her container out, she made her way to the medical bay.  Once she arrived on the floor, it seemed like all the life that was missing downstairs had emerged up there.  Unfamiliar nurses and doctors moved about the hallways, and suited SHIELD agents murmured in corners.

Clearly Tony and Steve had made some sort of progress while they were gone.  Emma made a mental note to ask Nat or Clint about it later.

“…I’m saying the information just doesn’t add up,” Tony’s familiar voice echoed down the hallway as it rose in irritation.  “You can’t just scoop random kids out of-." 

He stopped short when Emma entered the room. 

She recognized as few of the people standing around a surgical table. 

King T’Challa was standing next to Tony, clearly the one who had instigated the heated discussion.  Steve was off to the side with Natasha and Sam.  The blonde paled instantly at Emma’s presence in the room. 

It only took the author a few seconds to figure out why.

“ _Henry_ ,” she breathed, her attention immediately fixating on the body in front of her.

There _it_ was. 

The _grief_ that was waiting to hit her like a train. 

She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her while she took a few hesitant steps toward the table.

No one attempted to move or stop her.  No one even spoke. 

Aside from a short beard, Henry Miller looked exactly the same. 

Sure, his face was riddled with bruises and Emma was certain that under the crisp white sheet there was a plethora of injuries she didn’t even want to think about… but here he was. 

Her older brother.

“You found him,” she finally spoke.  Her voice was meek and she didn’t pry her eyes off of the body. 

“We wanted to give him a proper burial,” Steve spoke up and stepped toward Emma slowly.  She didn’t even notice his movements until he’d set an arm on her shoulder.  “We should have told you sooner.  I’m sorry.”

Emma reached forward and touched her brother’s cold hand.  It was calloused, worn from years of hard work.  Work that Emma didn’t even know about until recently. 

She was brought back to reality when a stray tear hit her cheek and she absently reached up to wipe it away.  King T’Challa murmured something to Tony and the duo quickly parted the room, leaving Emma, Steve, Natasha and Sam by Henry’s bedside.  

“We’re doing an autopsy to determine the exact cause of death,” Natasha supplied quietly.  “It’s possible that he perished from his injuries before Steve and the others even arrived.” 

Was that supposed to comfort her?  Emma frowned, looking at the large bruise that wound its way from his neck to his temple.  Did it even matter what dealt the killing blow?  Or was Natasha just trying to soften a potential conflict before it happened? 

Admittedly, it would be easier to absolve Tony and Steve of all the blame and point the finger at Zemo and Alec. 

She shrugged off Steve’s hand and pulled away from Henry, sending one last glance at her brother. 

“I need to get some air,” she muttered, retreating out of the room toward the elevator.  Her body was moving automatically, and she wasn’t even sure where she was headed. 

Once she was alone in the elevator car, however, she dropped to the floor and let out a long held sob.

It was for Henry.  It was for her father.  It was for _her_.   And it hurt like _hell_.

* * *

 

 “That could have gone worse,” Sam offered after Emma parted the room.  Steve sent him a miserable look before covering Henry’s head with the sheet. 

“Could have gone better too,” Steve grumbled, trying to escape the medical bay.  He was caught in the arm by Natasha, her gaze fixed and stern. 

“You couldn’t have expected it to go all sunshine and unicorns, right?” she tilted her head as she asked the question.

He wasn’t sure what he expected.  It ached him to see anyone hurt, particularly someone he’d grown to care about considerably.  He honestly just wished all of this emotion and pain would be over with already.  He wanted to focus on the mission.  He wanted to bring down HYDRA. 

Unfortunately, that meant digging out a lot of skeletons for everyone, including himself.

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted, tugging his arm away. 

Aside from Emma and the drama involved with Henry, King T’Challa’s presence reminded Steve that his best friend was still in a cryo sleep, thousands of miles across the world.  They still needed to come up with a solution to Bucky’s brainwashing on top of the issues that Alec and Marcel had brought forward.  

Before Steve realized what he was doing, he was headed to the gym.  He needed to punch something to clear his mind.  Mentally, Steve was a million miles away.  He needed to ground himself and found that working out helped him come back to reality. 

The scent of sweat hit him the moment he stepped off of the elevator and made his way into the abandoned training facility.  He hadn’t gotten the opportunity to really let loose since arriving back in the city, so he set up a punching bag and got to work.

It only took a few minutes before the bag flew across the room and he set another up in its place 

If Tony was right and Alan Marcel had moved to one of the warehouses in Detroit, where did that leave the various HYDRA cells in New York?  Were they working under Marcel and Alec?  Or did each group have separate plans? 

He jumped up and planted a booted foot into the bag.  It ripped off the ceiling and shot toward the entrance of the room where a surprised Emma stood.  She looked fresh out of the shower, her wet hair pulled into a tight bun on her head, though her eyes still looked raw and red.

“I left my running shoes…” she mumbled with a look toward the lockers in the corner.  “Wanda and I were going to go for a run.”

She quietly shuffled toward the changing area while Steve stood frozen in the training area, watching her move. 

He wanted to apologize again, but knew that any words would only make the lingering hurt more painful.  She dug through her locker a moment before pulling out a pair of sneakers and tugging them on.

Before she parted the room, she stopped a few feet away from Steve and spoke quietly.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” she stated, rolling her lip under her teeth before continuing.  “This… this isn’t your fault; despite what _they_ want us to think.”

For the first time since Emma entered the room, Steve moved toward her hesitantly. 

“We had a responsibility to ensure everyone was safe,” he began but Emma shook her head. 

“He knew what he was doing and what he was agreeing to,” she pressed and frowned.  “Just like you guys know deep down you might not come home after a mission… I think Henry knew he wasn’t getting out of HYDRA alive.”

Silence fell between the former neighbors a moment before Steve spoke, his firm voice echoing off of the walls of the room.

“We’re going to get them,” he promised, his expression tightening into and firm gaze.  “We’re going to finish what Henry started.”

He could see Emma digesting his words before a meek smile crossed her features.

“I know,” she simply stated before turning to leave the room.

He watched her walk out and didn’t move until the door to the training facility fell shut behind her.  After he was alone, he hauled another punching bag into place and started at it. 

He wouldn’t let her down.  Not again.  Never again.

* * *

When Wanda had heard the news of Emma walking in on her brother, she immediately set off to find the author. 

Wanda knew the pain of losing a sibling in grey circumstances, having lost her own by the hand of a robot that Tony Stark had helped create.  She knew the hazy emotions, the anger and the frustration. 

She also knew that Emma still hadn’t properly grieved her father’s death before being bombarded by Henry’s. 

She found Emma curled up on the floor of the author’s shower, fully clothed and staring vacantly at the tiled walls.  

The psychic turned off the shower and wordless lifted a towel from a nearby stack.  She wrapped it around Emma’s shoulders and sat down in the shower next to her. 

After a few moments of silence, Emma spoke.  Wanda knew the author had a lot on her mind, and tried not to dig too deeply without the other woman opening up to her.

“I don’t know if it’s better or worse if Henry was dead before the Avengers got there,” she muttered, turning her head to meet Wanda’s attention.  “I know Zemo’s intention is for me to distrust Steve and Tony; but Zemo, and I guess Alec, _are_ the reason Henry is dead.  Regardless of the situation.  _They_ had the motive, _they_ had the intention.”

Wanda nodded.  Both women’s siblings had been lost as random victims of another person’s war.  She understood the confusion circling Emma’s mind completely. 

“We all make our choices,” Wanda replied after a small silence filled the room.  “He knew the risks and still went forward with everything.  I believe coping with the loss starts will respecting his actions and wishes.  He did his job.” 

Wanda’s mind went back to her own brother, who’d chosen to lay down his life to protect Clint and a child.  He knew the risks and Wanda respected him the more for it, despite the pain that the loss had caused her. 

Emma wiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve and nodded slowly. 

“The last time I saw him,” she stated with a frown.  “We fought.   I told him I hated him.”

“He knew you didn’t hate him,” Wanda assured her with a small smile.  “He wouldn’t have done what he did.  That kind of sacrifice… There’s a deeper love there.”

A few more stray tears escaped Emma’s eyes while she nodded, her lips tight and her expression fixed downward. 

The pair sat in silence for a bit before Emma leaned over and rested her head on the Sokovian’s shoulder.  Wanda wrapped an arm around the author and they sat like that until Emma suggested going for a run to get out of the Tower.

It was probably for the best, because Wanda knew the author wanted sulk and hide away until the hurt went away.  At least exercise was healthier release.

For an instant, Wanda allowed herself to peer into Emma’s mind completely, instead of feeling out her emotions.  She saw the same fire that burned in her own heart after Pietro’s death. 

It would just be a matter of time to see if the fire would be controlled or consumed her. 

 

* * *

 


	16. Halloween

* * *

 

Everyone admitted it with was a beautiful ceremony, despite the dreary weather that had blown into Detroit the day before.  There was no telling around Halloween, her mother tried to laugh through a few stray tears, reminding some family members of the blizzard that struck town a decade previously. 

It was small enough, the service being held in the church Emma’s mother attended every Sunday.  Various SHIELD agents and random members of the Miller family sat scattered throughout the church pews.  Emma sat between her mother and Jordan, wearing the same dress she wore for her father’s service.  

The preacher spoke fondly of the former agent, despite never having met him.  He spoke of his bravery in adversity and the sacrifice he made for their freedom.  A few of Henry’s colleagues spoke and Emma’s mother held back sniffles the entire service.

Henry was buried next to their father, and their father’s father in the Miller family plot that expanded at least three generations now.  Emma’s namesake, her father’s mother, was also situated amongst them.  At least he wouldn’t be alone.

Steve had volunteered to accompany Emma, and before she knew it a small handful of the Avengers were invited in attendance to honor his memory.  They sat politely in the back, and remained sullen faced and quiet while his casket was lowered into the ground.

Emma cast a short glance to the super soldier while the funeral party had their heads bowed in prayer and was met with his piercing blue gaze. 

How many funerals had he attended?  She wondered aimlessly, recognizing that firm expression he wore when he was serious. 

When the ceremony was over and people began to disperse back to Emma’s mother’s home, the brunette author paused over the grave and dropped a single rose over her older brother’s casket.  She’d barely realized Jordan was at her side, glaring down into the darkness, his arms folded across his chest.

“He was an _idiot_ ,” he commented sharply, earning a surprised glance from Emma.  She shook her head at Jordan’s comment. 

“He was trying to protect all of us,” she insisted quietly, trying to set a hand on her baby brother’s arm, only for him to pull away stubbornly.

“If you really believe that, you’re as naïve as he was,” he grunted before storming off toward their mother’s waiting car. 

A short breeze ruffled the hems of Emma’s dress before another suited figure joined her and touched her elbow. 

“Henry Miller was one of the bravest agents I’d ever worked with,” a man with a wiry smile stated.  He offered a hand for her to shake before introducing himself.  “Phil Coulson.”

“Emma,” she responded with a curt shake of his hand, her attention being pulled back to the grave stone.

“I was in charge of Henry’s mission after it became clear that HYDRA was working within SHIELD,” he explained.  “For obvious reasons, contact was limited after Washington, but he managed to get us some valuable information before he passed.” 

Emma felt the subtle weight of a couple USB drives drop into her jacket.

“Our _mutual_ friends might find it interesting,” he simply commented before pulling her into a hug.  He murmured into her ear.  “Less friendly parties might be interested that you have this.  Be careful of those at home.” 

Emma stiffened at the words, but instead forced a smile, knowing that anyone could be watching the exchange. 

“Thank you for your kind words,” she mumbled through the tight expression.  “His sacrifice will not be for nothing, I’m _sure_.” 

“I agree,” he gave her a sly smile before backing away and heading toward a tinted black Suburban. 

Emma was left with his cryptic words while the rest of the cemetery emptied.  Was Coulson referring to her family?  Was her father somehow involved in all of this?  Or even her mother?  Perhaps that’s why Zemo and Alec got involved with the Millers in the first place.  How far did this stretch? 

“Pretty much everyone’s gone,” Steve walked over to Emma and paused a few feet away.  “What’d Coulson have to say?”

A cool breeze whipped through the cemetery and she shoved her hands into her pockets for warmth.  Aimlessly, they toyed with the USBs Coulson had slipped her.

“I’ll tell you later,” she replied in a low voice.  “I’m ready to gorge my emotions in some casseroles, how about you?”

* * *

Once the truth about Zemo and the Miller family came out, Tony contacted Fury and had SHIELD agents posted with Emma’s family.  It was reassuring in a sense, since she knew what her mother and younger brother were up to at all times.  But there was a bit of worry in the back of Emma’s mind, considering she’d managed to get snatched up by Zemo and she had the _Avengers_ looking after her. 

But she couldn’t very well pull her entire family from their lives and have them hide in the Tower with her.  It would be almost _selfish_ in Emma’s opinion. 

She poked at her green bean casserole and watched her mother across the room laugh at a memory that one of her cousins shared with her.  Jordan had long disappeared, pulling the same act he had when their father had died. 

She admittedly wasn’t as close with Jordan as she’d been with Henry.  Henry was more outgoing and constantly teased his younger sister whenever she argued with his classmates over his unique hobbies.  Jordan had usually kept to himself, especially after he began high school. 

She watched Sam make his way over to her mother and offer his respects, introducing himself as a veteran of the Air Force, immediately earning a hug from her mother. 

“I figured she’d love Sam,” Emma muttered to Steve with a smirk.  He looked up from his plate of food and let out a low chuckle. 

“Who doesn’t?” the blonde replied, shoveling another large scoop of food into his mouth. 

“He’s just so damn likable,” she snorted, her plastic fork twirling around paper plate.  “He and Henry would have gotten along, I bet.”  She mused the thought quietly, picturing the two men bonding over their humor.  She was almost positive that Sam had a similar laugh to Henry, though her memory wasn’t quite as strong as she’d like. 

“How long has your family lived here?” Steve changed the subject subtlety, glancing around at old family photos and dust covered bookshelves.

“Since dad died,” she replied, setting down her plate and picking up nearby photo frame.  Steve immediately recognized the picture as the one Emma had tucked away when they’d visited the shed for the HYDRA files.  “He’d actually finished the sale on the house about six months before he passed.  The Sokovia mission was supposed to be his last tour before coming home for good.”

Her voice cracked at the last sentence before she passed off the photo to Steve. 

“This was from our last family vacation up north,” she explained lightly.  “About… gosh… probably a year or so before he died…?”

He looked over the Miller family’s smiling faces. 

Emma looked considerably aged in person, her eyes tired and her gaze darkened compared to her younger counterpart in the frame. 

Emma was still watching her mother carefully, her brow furrowing in worry whenever her mother wiped away tears with her embroidered handkerchief. 

“You haven’t given me a tour of your house yet,” Steve suddenly announced, taking Emma’s barely picked at plate of food and setting in on a side table.  “Let’s see where the famous Emma Miller found her muse.”

A small smile shot across his companion’s features, followed by a short laugh.  He held up a hand and gave a deep bow. 

“Madam,” he stated in a low voice.  “Please guide me with your vast knowledge.” 

She shook her head in laughter, grabbing his hand and retreating to the kitchen before the duo earned more stares from her family members. 

It was nice to see her laugh, Steve realized once they’d slipped away.  Things had been so bitter and sour as of late, despite the circumstances, perhaps it was time for a little happiness.  Even if it was for just an instant. 

“So Henry and I tried to build Jordan a tree house when we moved in,” Emma explained, pointing out the glass of the backdoor to the kitchen.  “It didn’t exactly go very well.” 

“It’s three planks of wood,” Steve noted lightly.  “You certainly are not a carpenter.”

“I guess my talents involve much thinner pieces of trees,” she agreed with a sigh.  “Obviously this is the kitchen.”  She pointed to a door tucked away in the corner.  “That was Henry’s room.  We had the basement renovated and everything so he’d have his own space." 

Steve nodded in acknowledgement before she pulled him back into the living room.  She was moving the main staircase of the house and paused to greet a few passing relatives.  She gave a soft kiss to her mother, before continuing the tour on the next level. 

She opened the first door they encountered and gestured inside. 

“Mom and dad’s room,” she noted quickly shutting the door.  She pointed to a closed door.

“Jordan’s room,” she continued the small hallway before pausing at a closed door to her left.  “I’m almost scared my mom left my room exactly the same.”

Steve chuckled at the comment and pushed past her to twist the door knob open. 

“Oh _wow_ ,” he commented after entering the room.  Emma’s cheeks erupted in red while she took in all of the relicts of years past. “You played tennis?” he looked up at the brunette after picking up a small trophy.  “I wouldn’t believe it.”

“Shut up,” she snagged the small statue away and tucked it back on her shelf.  “I was like, thirteen. And terrible at it.  That’s a _participation_ trophy." 

He hummed, a smirk permanently etched on his face. 

“Clint would kill to see this,” he mused lifting a large stuffed bunny off of Emma’s small bed tucked in the corner.  “Maybe I should take some pictures.”

“I was a child!” she complained.  “I was stupid and young.  We all make mistakes.”

He sat down on the bed and held up the bunny.

“ _I’m a mistake_?” he mocked, raising his tone to fake the stuffed animal’s voice.  “I’m _hurt_.”

 She grabbed the bunny out of his hand and tenderly placed it in a nearby office chair.  Emma paused a moment and looked over a fairly large shelf of books, something Steve was not surprised in the least to see in her room. 

She plucked a small notebook off of a pile on the top and began to turn through it, her eyebrows raising in surprise. 

“I forgot I grabbed this,” she noted under her breath.  She gestured for Steve to scoot over on the bed and plopped down next to him, holding the book open.  “That stuffed rabbit and this book are pretty much the only things that survived the fire at the old house.” 

When Emma opened up the old notebook, a handful of pictures fell to the floor, scattering around her feet.  She quickly bent over to pick them up, thumbing through each one carefully.  Her expression shifted immediately from curiosity to sorrow. 

Steve glanced over her shoulder when she fell silent and scanned over the old photographs in her hand. 

They were of Emma and Henry running around a backyard with towels wrapped around their shoulders.  Steve soon realized it was the backyard of their old house that had burnt down. 

Henry grave a toothy grin to the camera, holding his arms up over his head and imitating a superhero flying to the rescue. 

It was almost instinctive when Steve wrapped his arms around Emma’s shoulders and rested his chin on her head.  Her hands lowered and she sank into the embrace, her hands gripping on his arm like an anchor to sanity. 

“I could have helped him,” she murmured, pulling away from him and scooting closer to the edge of her twin bed.  “I could have gone with him.  He should have _told_ me.”

Steve shifted next to her and remained silent.  She bowed her head, her attention focused on the floor of the room.

“I could have joined SHIELD with him,” she continued looking up and revealing her face now covered with silent tears.  “He didn’t need to die alone.”

“You both did what you had to,” Steve assured her, reaching for her hand and clasping his tightly around it.  “You did your damage in your own way.  He did his.  You can’t change the past, no matter how much you regret it.”

Emma nodded and fell quiet at the words. 

“When Bucky die- was _lost_ ,” he began, his voice cracking slightly at the familiar name.  “I didn’t know what else to do but focus on HYDRA.  I didn’t care who I hurt or what I did in my way to seeking vengeance.” 

“You also crashed a plane into the Arctic two days later,” Emma muttered. 

“I also crashed a plane in the Arctic,” he agreed with a small nod.  “And I left a lot of pain with that action.  Granted, I’m not any less reckless today...”

Emma snorted and looked up at her companion.

“Captain Rogers, is there a point to this pep talk?” she asked, a smile pulling at the edges of her mouth. 

“My point is- we’re going to get them,” he promised for the second time that week.  She looked dubious a moment before he narrowed his eyes.  “I mean it.  We’re down to HYDRA’s final heads and I think all of this will lead to the answers we need.” 

“For Bucky too?” she nearly whispered the question.  He could see the worry in her brown gaze.  He’d spoken to her a few times in the past about Bucky and his current predicament.  He hadn’t expected her to ask him so directly.  The question hit him squarely in the chest and he paused a moment before responding. 

“Hopefully,” he admitted, letting out a long drawn sigh.  “ _Hopefully_.  T’Challa has been keeping quiet around Tony.  But some of their tests are promising."

He knew sooner or later the billionaire would find out that the King was hiding Bucky in his royal residence.  Steve hoped desperately that the idea of saving thousands of brainwashed people outweighed the personal vendetta Tony felt against Bucky. 

But that was like asking Natasha to forgive the Red Room handlers, or Wanda to forgive Ultron. 

Steve had long accepted that everyone wouldn’t be holding hands and singing anytime soon.

Emma gave his hand a supportive squeeze and looked up at him. 

“What are you going to do when this is all over?” she questioned, changing the subject.  “I can’t imagine there are a lot of planes to crash this time around.”

“You’d be surprised,” he replied with a laugh, his expression falling while he thought the question over.  Before all of the drama with HYDRA re-emerged, he’d been wondering the same thing.  What kind of life did he see himself living without an ultimate mission?  If HYDRA was gone, could he just focus on Bucky’s rehabilitation?  Maybe settle down?  He glanced at Emma and shrugged.  “I have _no_ idea.”

His body was created to fight for injustice, it wasn’t as easy as retiring and taking up a hobby for him.  No matter how desperately he desired it in the past.

“ _Fortunately_ ,” she sighed at the irony of the word and fished two USBs out of her pocket, holding them out for Steve.  “We still have time.  A gift from Agent Coulson.  I wanted to wait until we were alone.”

“ _Right_ ,” he took the two files and flipped them over in his palm.  “I’ll have Tony look these over when we get back.  No point risking a security breach on a civilian computer.” 

Emma hummed her agreement and pocketed the devices once again.  There was an awkward silence between the pair, each staring off in the distance before Emma broke the quiet.

“For the record, if given the choice,” she met his eyes, sincerity dropping from every word.  “I think you should stick around.  I’d be pretty lonely without my neighbor.”

“I think someone was supposed to move-in across the hall from you,” he noted playfully. “You won’t be too lonely.  Hopefully it’s another dashingly good looking super soldier." 

He loved watching her get flustered.  Every emotion she felt was spelled out across her features, no matter how much she tried to hide it.  While she stumbled over her next words, a small patch of pink was creeping its way across her cheeks.

“I’d be lonely without _you_ , Steve Rogers,” she clarified firmly, her face lowering into a scowl.

Everything suddenly happened at once. 

He scooped her chin toward him and pulled her into a deep kiss.  Ever since their encounter in the hallway, he’d thought about how he’d be able to kiss those lips again.

For a moment, everything was perfect.

He felt her shift her weight on the bed, positioning herself closer to him.  It took a small nudge of her hands and he fell backwards onto the bed.  She gave a small smirked before leaning over him and continuing where they’d left off. 

When he noticed he wasn’t able to touch every inch of her body, he readjusted his position and lifted her toward the head of the bed with a smooth movement.

They curled themselves around one another, their kisses more desperate and passionate with each passing heartbeat. 

“ _Emma_!” her mother’s voice floated from the stairs through the closed bedroom door.  “Your Aunt Tracy is leaving.”

Emma pulled away, her face pale at the interruption.  Cursing under her breath she shuffled out of bed and adjusted her clothes.  When she nearly stumbled over a discarded shoe, Steve caught her with a single arm and pulled her back toward him.  She melted into the touch, her lips crashing into his.  When they stopped, their breathing heavy, she reached her hand out and placed in on his heart. 

“I feel like I’m fifteen again,” she laughed off the exchange and flattened out her dress.  “Sneaking boys into my room…”

Her mother shouted up the stairs again.  “Coming!  One second!” Emma replied quickly and pulled away from Steve hesitantly, her hand lingering moments longer on his chest before she dropped it to her side.

She took a second to collect herself before opening the bedroom door and disappearing down the hallway. 

Steve was left standing in the author’s room, feeling very much like the small 16-year-old in Brooklyn.  Between Bucky Barnes and Emma Miller, the pair had a unique ability to make him feel _human_ again. 

And he both loved and dreaded it, because they gave him even more motivation to fight and protect what was dear to him.  No matter the cost.

Perhaps he _hadn’t_ learned anything in 90 years.

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff, some angst, lots of feeling this chapter! Let me know what you think!


	17. Gasoline

* * *

After the funeral, Nat and Clint had been tasked with tracking down some of HYDRA’s Detroit hideouts.  They had a list of warehouses under Marcel’s various alias’ and worked their way from top to bottom.

The first few were empty, though it looked like operations would open shop soon enough.  It was mainly boxes of office supplies and desks.  

It wasn’t until they searched the fourth warehouse that they actually found anything of substance.  That being, a white, powdery, substance.

Clint nicked the packaging open with the tip of his knife and sniffed inside, his fingers feeling the powder for familiar textures.

“Not cocaine,” he noted with a frown.  “Not sure what it is.”

“Bag it,” Nat simply replied, glancing over her shoulder at a sudden noise.  “At least Stark can run some tests.”

“Yes _ma’am_ ,” Clint retorted with a small salute, sealing the bag within a tamperproof plastic envelope. 

Natasha had her attention completely focused on a group of men making their way into the warehouse.  She held her arm up to Clint, indicating that he needed to be silent.  He looked over her shoulder with knitted brows, his fingers dancing toward a cache of arrows at his side. 

From what the redhead could tell, there were three men, about fifty feet away from her and Clint’s present location.  Two in their mid-twenties to thirties and the other was just past middle-age.  Marcel was nowhere to be seen, much to Nat’s disappointment, but something one of the other men said caught her attention. 

“She brought the whole fucking boy-scout brigade,” one of the younger men complained in a low voice.  “I’m surprised Stark didn’t appear out of nowhere with confetti and tracking devices.” 

The other men grunted their agreement before the older man spoke.

“You weren’t followed, were you?” he questioned, his voice dropping an octave before glancing around the seemingly empty warehouse.

“No way,” the younger man continued with a snort.  “Everyone was at the house when I left.  Em and her star-spangled boyfriend were too busy making goo-goo eyes at each other.  I even circled the block a few times to be sure.”

 

Nat felt Clint tense when the younger man used the author’s nickname.  It was a subtle slip-up but it indicated whoever the man was, he was close to Emma.  Close enough to have been at the funeral.   

Natasha mentally cursed when she couldn’t get a clear view of him, only being able to see the older man when he turned his head to the side.  She ducked down, her expression pulling in when she recognized him. 

Clint leaned into her, sensing his companions shift in emotion.  That was one thing Nat appreciated about the archer.  No matter how well she masked her emotions, he could tell something was off by the twitch of an eyebrow or the curve of her lip.

“He see you?” he questioned quietly, his mouth next to her ear, barely above a whisper.  She shook her head slightly, her hand resting on his wrist to silence him.  The pair had long come across silent means of communication in the field for this exact circumstance.  

The older man standing not more than fifteen feet away from the heroes was a former SHIELD scientist that was revealed to be HYDRA after the file leak.  He was an expert in cognitive science, one of the main reasons he’d been recruited by SHIELD in the first place. 

Clint stole a look and quickly ducked back down to his companion, his lips forming a thin line while he registered what he saw.

“Dr. Smith,” he grunted under his breath.  Natasha nodded slowly listening for more snippets of the conversation.  They had a positive ID on at least one subject and a sample for testing.  It was more than enough to get answers, but Natasha was feeling a little greedy today. 

“We should be ready to move forward by the end of the night,” the second younger man finally spoke up, a voice that Natasha immediately recognized as Alec Reynolds.  “The delivery came in last night, and we have Marcel setting up meetings with some after school programs as we speak.”

“Hail HYDRA,” the unidentified man chuckled, cupping his hand onto Alec’s shoulder.  “Though I don’t think we should make any moves before the Avengers are out of our hair.  Better safe than sorry.”

“That’s not your call, Miller,” Alec snapped back sharply. 

 _Oh_.  Nat and Clint exchanged a wide eyed look.

 _Miller_.

Natasha twisted slightly.  She needed visual confirmation before jumping to any conclusions.  It could have been a cousin, and uncle, literally anyone-

But she recognized the familiar brown hair, the smirk, the dark brown gaze- while he argued back and forth with Alec. 

Jordan Miller was HYDRA. 

“We need to get out of here,” Clint murmured urgently into Natasha’s ear.  She looked over her shoulder toward one of the back entrances and noticed another group of HYDRA goons headed toward the trio in the middle of the warehouse.  She nodded silently in agreement. 

It’d be too risky to stay put.  They had more than enough to move forward.

And with that, the two spies disappeared out as quietly as they’d arrived.

* * *

“I _insist_ ,” Mrs. Miller was already laying out blankets over her couch for Steve and Sam.

Emma, meanwhile, stood to the side, her arms crossed with a smirk etched across her features.  She already knew that her mother was an unstoppable force when she was determined.  And boy was Mrs. Miller determined to be the perfect host. 

Steve and Sam were spending the night whether they liked it or not. 

A few of Emma’s family members were still mulling about the house, some waiting for the head of the Miller family to tell them where they’d be sleeping for the night. 

“Emma, dear, please grab some more blankets and pillows from upstairs,” her mother chided, breaking Emma out of her mocking gaze.  She immediately dashed up the stairs and began to dig through the old pantry at the end of the hall. 

There was nothing quite like watching Captain America and the Falcon be bossed around by her 50-something year old mother.

By the time the author had returned to the living room, her mother had transformed the space for both of the heroes, as well as a handful of her male cousins. 

“Honey, Susan and Rachel are going to be sleeping with you in your room,” her mother ordered in a tone that suggested the arrangement was not up for debate.  The two cousins were already at Emma’s side after her mother’s decision was announced, grabbing blankets and claiming pillows as their own.  

Emma sent a desperate look of misery toward Steve who merely grinned and gave her a shrug. 

It was probably karma.

Susan and Rachel were her mother’s brother’s children.  They lived in Northern California and often came to visit Detroit during holidays and special occasions.  They were twins.  They were a few years younger than Emma, just recently having turned 22.  And they were insufferable.  At least that was the last memory Emma had of the duo when she’d last seen them a few years ago. 

After everyone was settled in their respective sleeping quarters, Susan and Rachel grabbed Emma’s hands and pulled her upstairs to her bedroom.  It was there that the questioning began. 

How did she know the Avengers?  Was Sam single?  How big was Steve’s-

“Ok,” Emma interrupted the barrage of questions with her hands help up.  “It’s a long story.  But turns out Steve moved into the same building as I did in Brooklyn.  And now we’re friends.”

“ _Brooklyn_ ,” Susan repeated, twirling a strand of her perfect blonde hair between her fingers.  “I told you we should have gone to NYU.”  She shot a look at Rachel who rolled her eyes. 

“We’re also not famous authors who can afford penthouses with Avengers,” she retorted with a snort.  “Speaking of which, how have you been?  I swear it’s been _ages_.”

Oh it _had_ been ages, Emma reminded herself, forcing a smile on her features.  She’d made sure of it.  After she’d gotten out of Detroit she made sure she was always conveniently busy during whatever family meal or holiday gift exchange the family had come up with. 

“I’m fine,” Emma replied quickly, not at all interested into going into the details of what she’d been up to since leaving for university.  “Been busy.” 

“So we’ve heard,” Susan grinned.  “Saw the photos from the movie gala, that blue dress was _amazing_.” 

Rachel chimed in to agree and soon the pair were going back and forth about their favorite red carpet looks of the season.  Emma took the opportunity to excuse herself for a glass of water downstairs. 

The boys were just as rowdy.  Sam was telling her younger cousins, Jim and Chris about a recent adventure while Steve was explaining particulars of his shield to Rachel and Susan’s father. 

Emma was able to sneak past without much notice and found sanctuary in the kitchen where her mother stood by the window, staring out into the backyard.

“It’s nice having a full house again,” the older Miller woman commented with a sigh.  “It’s been so empty for so long.”

 She turned to Emma with a sad smile and gestured toward an empty wine glass and a bottle on the counter.  With a relieved sigh, Emma poured herself a large glass.

“Your friends are nice,” she added lightly, taking a small sip from her own glass.  “Sam reminds me a lot of Henry.  They would have gotten along, I think.”

Emma nodded and stared down at the liquid in her glass. 

“They’re good people,” she finally muttered with a glance toward the living room where Sam’s voice was rising at the peak of his story.  

“Never thought I’d have a few Avengers attending my Henry’s funeral,” her mother commented, her voice cracking at the last part of the sentence.  Her eyes looked down and she quickly downed the glass of wine, hurriedly pouring herself more.  “Never thought _I’d_ be at Henry’s funeral.  Do me a favor and try not to die before me, ok?”  

There was a bitter sadness that laced the request.  It was in that moment Emma was able to get a good look at her mom.  

She looked so tired.  The same exhaustion Emma had noted when her father died, now crept back onto her mother’s aged features. 

Emma set down her drink and pulled her mother into a deep hug.  The older woman nearly collapsed into her daughter’s embrace, sniffing back a sob that kept threatening to choke out. 

They stood like this a while, only pulling apart when Emma’s aunt walked into the kitchen announcing that the boys needed some sleep for their flight the next day. 

Her mother jumped back in an instant.  She wiped a stray tear away, took a sip of her drink and went into the living room to tell Captain America and Falcon that they needed to settle down and get some sleep. 

Emma finished her glass of wine amid the protests from the guys, most loudly, Sam. 

She slipped past the group, not noticing a pair of blue eyes trailing behind her while she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. 

Once inside, she realized that Susan and Rachel hadn’t settled into bed.  Instead, the twins were adjusting their make-up and teasing out their hair. 

Emma opened her mouth to protest before a black dress was thrust into her hands and she was ordered to change. 

“It’s what Henry would have wanted,” Rachel insisted with a grin.  Emma shook her head.

“Pretty sure Henry would have wanted us to get some sleep and maybe some pancakes in the morning,” she protested while Susan started running a curling iron through her brown locks.  “Besides, it’s like DEFCON 4 downstairs." 

“We’re going out the window,” Rachel replied matter-of-factly.  “Our cab should be at the end of the street in twenty minutes.”

“You two are literally insane,” Emma stammered while Rachel grabbed a tube of lipstick, smearing it across her older cousin’s face and smirking at her handiwork. 

“We’ve heard that,” Susan hummed, dropping a handful of curled brown locks onto Emma’s shoulders.  “But how often do we get to see our big cousin?  It won’t kill you to have a little fun.” 

 _It might_.  Emma countered mentally, watching her face transform with a few movements of the twins’ hands. 

“Also what a better story than sneaking out with Avengers _and_ SHIELD agents standing guard?” Rachel nearly squealed from excitement. 

“You know,” Emma replied.  “There _might_ be a reason they’re all hanging around.”

“If they can’t find us, neither can the bad guys,” Susan reasoned, finishing with Emma’s hair and beginning to pull the author’s mourning dress off in exchange for a similar dress with significantly less fabric.  “Besides, Henry wouldn’t have wanted us sitting around and _sulking_.  Let’s celebrate the freedom he died to give us.” 

And that was how Emma found herself crawling down the side of a trellis, heels in hand, the night before Halloween. 

She made sure to grab her cell phone and shot a quick text to Sam about her cousins plans, just in case she ended up somewhere less than desirable.  At least someone would know where to find their bodies.

“Jesus Emma,” Rachel glared at Emma while she fitted her shoes back on once they reached the ground.  “When did you get so morbid?” 

Apparently Emma had spoken her last thought out loud. 

“It’s Halloween, isn’t it?” she tried to joke, earning confused glances from the twins before the trio made their way to the end of the road where a taxi sat waiting. 

* * *

It was too loud.  Too crowded and too hot. 

Rachel and Susan forced her to dance.  They insisted on shots.  They pulled Emma on the stage when the DJ made a shout out to the celebrities in the room. 

When she finally had a chance to catch her breath, she glanced at her phone and saw a text from Tony.

 _Having fun?_ He wrote with a picture of her throwing back a shot with her cousins.  _You’re trending._   _Shall I make an appearance?  Can’t let you get all the attention._

 _Don’t think you could keep up, old man._ She typed back and tucked her phone away before being pulled away by Susan for a selfie on the dance floor. 

Fortunately, the more Emma had to drink, the more bearable the club became. 

After an hour Rachel and Susan wanted to move onto the next club, pulling Emma along toward a waiting limo.  Had she ordered the limo?

“I swear to god, you call me old again and I’m kicking you out of the Tower,” Tony’s voice shouted from inside the car while Susan and Rachel pushed her inside 

“Where the hell did you come from?” Emma poked the billionaire in the chest accusingly.  “New York is way further away.”  The statement came out a little more slurred than Emma would have liked, but Rachel and Susan were appalled at their cousin’s blunt behavior with Tony Stark.

“We literally rode the same plane here yesterday,” he reminded the brunette, thrusting a glass of champagne into her hand.  “Plus I’m _bored_.  FRIDAY isn’t very good company.” 

“ _We_ don’t mind at all,” Rachel chimed up grabbing her own bottle of champagne.  Emma looked at her cousins and realized that they’d brought along a small entourage of people from the club. 

God, she was drunker than she’d thought.

Someone handed her a double shooter and Emma threw it back to the applause of her cousins and their new friends. 

They arrived at the next club with a flurry of paparazzi greeting the group when their door opened. 

It was incredibly glamourous.  If Emma would have travelled back in time and told her younger self that she’d be partying with Tony Stark on the evening of older brother’s funeral, she wouldn’t have believed it.

It was reassuring to have a friend nearby.  Even though the twins were blood, Tony felt like family.  She knew deep down that the billionaire only came out to keep an eye on her, probably at the behest of Steve or Sam, but it still meant a lot to her that he came to support her.

Tony ordered bottle service for the whole group, and soon the world became a flurry of colors and lights.  She called Steve at least twice, though she couldn’t recall the conversations if her life depended on it.  When she woke up the next morning, she was covered in a significant amount of glitter.

In the end, Tony made sure her and the twins had a safe place to sleep that night, booking a hotel downtown with enough space for all of them to sleep comfortably. 

And though Emilya Marie Miller woke up with the worst hangover of her life, when she rolled to the side of her king sized bed, she couldn’t help but smile when she heard Tony snoring in his own bed across the room.

Alec was wrong.  Nothing was a matter of circumstance.  She was in-charge of her own future.  Her own destiny.

* * *

Helmut Zemo knew a thing or two about loss.  

He immediately joined the Sokovian kill force when he lost his mother in the civil conflict.  He sought vengeance for his wife and child after the Avengers made the sky fall.  He was even able to kill two birds with one stone and take out his former comrade, Henry Miller after the agent’s betrayal.    

Admittedly, he truly hated killing people.  So many lives had come to an end before him.  So many lights smothered by his hand.  Whether it was under order or by his own accord, he reasoned that he had a duty. 

That was always the justification in the end; the lives had to come to an end for a greater cause.  Personal or not. 

This was why he despised HYDRA.  They killed for no reason.  They sought control and yet used the most chaotic means to achieve it. 

_Brainwashed teenagers._

Zemo could list the reasons why the plan would fail; starting with the reunion of the Avengers and ending with the Miller family’s complicated role in the whole thing.  

But Zemo was a player for the long game.  Despite the fragile foundation that Steve Rogers and Tony Stark had managed to build, it was only a matter of time before it _crumbled_. 

Truly fate had given him a second chance at his vengeance.  How else would the erratic younger sister of Henry Miller fall into the embraces of his enemies?  He saw the way the Captain looked at the woman, and he knew a dozen ways to make her suffer; and in turn, Steve Rogers suffer.

Zemo knew about loss.  He knew about pain and what pain could drive a sane man to do. 

Steve Rogers and Tony Stark would learn that pain, one way or another.  He had vowed this the day he’d been captured by the Wakandan king. 

Destiny was a fickle mistress.  She gave and she took, but finally it seemed that Helmut Zemo had been given a hand of cards he could work with.  He’d find his peace at the suffering of those who’d done him harm. 


	18. Fight

* * *

 

Tony managed to sneak Emma and the twins back to the house just before dawn broke. 

Even the billionaire could see the fear in Emma’s eyes at being caught outside the house when Jennifer Miller awoke. 

“Just-,” Emma paused in the doorway while Rachel and Susan disappeared up the stairs silently.  “Thank you.” 

Tony gave the younger woman a smile before pulling her into a hug. 

“You needed it,” he replied quietly.  “Sometimes the best way to grieve is to do some stupid things and deal with the headache later.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” she murmured into his shoulder.

“I might have a _little_ experience in the loss department,” he replied, breaking the hug.  He looked at the ground and kicked a nearby rock off of the sidewalk into the grass.  “Never gets easier, huh?”

Brown eyes met brown eyes and Emma shook her head; a stray tear threatening to spill over her lash. 

“Guess not,” she agreed, her attention jerking toward the front door where her mother now stood. 

“Good _morning_ ,” Mrs. Miller greeted with a smirk.  “You’re up early Em.”

Emma froze, her tired mind unable to form a coherent response. 

“Good morning,” Tony greeted, offering his hand for the older Miller woman to shake.  “I didn’t realize Emma had a sister.”

“Charm can only get you so far, Mr. Stark.  Sam tried the same line yesterday,” Mrs. Miller took his hand and smirked.  “Emma, I didn’t know you’d invited Mr. Stark over for breakfast." 

“Right,” Emma pulled herself back into the conversation.  She turned her body toward Tony and gestured toward the open door.  “ _Breakfast_.” 

“I’d hate to impose-,” Tony began but Mrs. Miller dragged him through the doorway into the warm house.  He stood awkwardly in the foyer, while Emma mumbled something about feeding an army. 

“Those are the magic words around here,” Sam grunted from the living room.  The boys were just beginning to stir, while Steve was folding his blankets into a neat pile on the sofa.  “Good morning Emma." 

The author snorted in response and gave a small wave, thankful she’d changed into a t-shirt and sweats before leaving the hotel that morning.  Hopefully she’d be able to play off the three hours of sleep until they got out of Detroit. 

“You look _really_ rested,” Sam added with a laugh.  “Being home must do wonders for your health.” 

“I agree completely,” Tony turned to the brunette and grabbed her by the shoulders to examine her more closely.  “I’m pretty sure you’re _glowing_.”

 _Glowing green maybe_ , Emma added silently, her stomach turning slightly at the sudden movement.  She caught her mother’s eye and before Emma could retreat, her mom was at her daughter’s side.  She reached up and touched the side of Emma’s face with her right hand.

“You’re just getting prettier every day,” she cooed, earning some teasing grunts from her younger cousins and Sam.

Mrs. Miller leaned in to give Emma a soft peck on the cheek before whispering in the brunette’s ear.  

“I’ll make you a mimosa dear, you look _terrible_ ,” she gave a small wink to Emma and slipped off into the kitchen for breakfast preparations.

Years out of high school and Emma _still_ couldn’t get away with anything. 

“Cat’s out of the bag,” Tony chortled, hitting Emma on the back and making his way toward the kitchen to chat with Mrs. Miller. 

Emma took the lapse in attention as a chance to slip upstairs and clean herself up a little.  She wanted at least a shower before she was crammed back into the Quinjet. 

She grabbed a fresh towel out of the hall closet, humming under her breath the list of things she needed to get done before she could get some sleep, when a hand on her shoulder startled her. 

“Jordan!” she breathed, her face flushing in embarrassment.  “Good morning, you scared me to death.” 

“Seem a little tense, Em,” he commented quietly, a small grin beginning to stretch across his features.  “Don’t tell me mom found out about your little adventure last night?” 

She playfully hit him in the shoulder with her towel and started toward the bathroom door.  Emma was momentarily happy to see that her baby brother was finally back home.

“I _wonder_ who told her,” she mocked, making a face.  “We both know mom wouldn’t be able to handle Twitter.” 

“I _wonder_ ,” he commented over his shoulder before climbing down the stairs to the first level of the house.  Emma climbed into the bathroom and quickly scrubbed at her arms and legs.  She watched the dirt and glitter from the night before swirl in the drain, before disappearing from sight.  In seconds, she was back to plain old Emma Miller. 

The night was just a distraction after all.  A distraction from reality, from _truth_. 

There was no number of tequila shots that would be able to bring her big brother back to life.

Alec and Zemo were still out there.  HYDRA was still out there, wreaking havoc and pain in the lives of others.  _That_ was still the mission. 

* * *

Natasha and Clint had decided to make a few more stops before reporting their findings back to the team.  They figured they had plenty of time, assuming everyone stayed together until boarding the Quinjet at Detroit Metro. 

The following day, the duo decided to check a few dilapidated buildings owned personally by Dr. Smith.  Sure enough, they found similar set-ups, all the way down to the mysterious white powder. 

It was during their last stop, however, when things became interesting.

Clint was the first one who heard it, his senses tuned to the most minuet of noises or sights.

A small scream from the back of a warehouse. 

The spies exchanged a glance.  Both of them knew better than to leave an innocent behind if the possibility of them being saved was on the table.  They crept toward the shouts, Natasha watching over their shoulders while Clint charged ahead. 

 Finally, they reached a locked door.  A female’s muffled whimpers could be heard on the other side, as well as a few male voices.

“How many do you think?” Clint questioned his companion.  Natasha paused, listening at the door’s crevice.  The archer caught himself staring when she closed her eyes in thought, concentrating on each individual sound inside. 

“Five or six, max,” she reported, blinking back up at him.  “Think you can handle that?”

“Psht,” he swung a knife out of a pouch on his side.  “ _Child’s play_.”

Natasha got the door open in seconds and the spies got to work, disarming and taking down each agent that charged or shot at them. 

But then, they were outnumbered.  _Significantly_.

Clint suggested a retreat, knowing they wouldn’t get out without being captured, while Nat quickly typed at a small handheld device.  She looked to Clint, nodded, and smashed it under her boot. 

They tried to escape the way they’d arrived, but were met with more armed HYDRA goons.  The female’s screams had finally died down as Clint and Natasha were forced to their knees with their hands above their heads.

* * *

 

Steve, Tony, Sam and Emma were saying their goodbyes and storing their luggage away before their flight back to New York.  Emma’s mother had long left for a community banquet at her church, while the twins and their family were probably in route to California. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Jordan glanced at his phone a moment and shook his head.  Her younger brother was designated to see the team off. Curious, Emma peered over his shoulder just as he tucked it away.  

“What is it?” she questioned, passing a duffle-bag to Steve. 

“My friend borrowed my car last night and apparently it broke down at his work,” he explained with a groan of irritation.  “Mom’s got her banquet meeting today and I’m supposed to get to a meeting downtown in an hour.”

Emma’s expression lit up once her brother explained his predicament.  She’d finally have a chance to spend some time with the youngest Miller before they left.  

“Tony, you have room in your rental for Steve and Sam right?  I’ll take my car, drop Jordan off at work and we can meet at the airport?”  No one wanted to deny Emma one last opportunity to spend time with her family. 

“I can tag along if you’d like,” Steve suggested after tossing their belongings into Tony’s rental car.  “Might need an extra set of hands in case the repairs get nasty.” 

 Emma shrugged the suggestion off, instead beaming at her younger brother and ruffling his hair. 

“I’m sure we can handle it, besides I'll just drop him off,” she laughed, unlocking her rental and waiting for Jordan to climb in.  Once it was just the team, she reached in her pockets and passed off the USBs Coulson had given her the day before.  “I’m _sure_ I’ll lose these in the car.  Make sure Tony gets them,” she wrapped her hands around Steve’s tightly, giving him a small smile. 

“Has anyone heard from Nat and Clint?” Sam questioned the group.  Collectively, the group shook their heads and with a small peck on Steve’s cheek, Emma left for the driver’s side of the car.

“Text me if anything comes up,” she shouted over her shoulder, settling into place and grinning at her baby brother.  

A nearly identical pair of brown eyes met hers and he quietly instructed her toward the highway.

“So what are you doing now?” Emma started conversation while she merged onto the highway toward the city’s center.  “Mom mentioned something about real estate?  I didn’t know you got your license.”

 “I didn’t,” Jordan replied in a bored tone, his gaze drifting out the window on the passenger side.  “I’m kind of an assistant to an actual investor.”

Emma cursed under her breath when a semi-truck cut her off before returning to the conversation.

“That’s not bad though,” she encouraged lightly.  “Gotta take baby steps to get to a career you’d like.”

“I’m sure you know _all_ about baby-steps,” Jordan replied with a snort.  He glanced at his sister a moment before returning his attention to his cell phone.  “Take a right at this exit.  You know where that old church over here is?”

“Yeah,” she replied quickly, her attention focusing back on the road once the siblings fell silent again.  Jordan had never been the talkative type, instead focusing on his own projects and friends while Henry and Emma spent time together.  After Henry left, Emma collapsed into herself and moved to New York for school, leaving behind Jordan and her mother. 

She regretted abandoning her family so shortly after their father passed and Henry disappeared, but Emma was determined to make things right before returning to the city. 

“So I’m-,” Emma began once the car came to a stop at a red light; but her phone began to buzz in her pocket.  Steve.  “Hello?”

“Where are you?” he cut straight to the chase, his tone sharp and demanding.

“I’m dropping Jordan off at-,” she tried to explain but he interrupted. 

“Emma, listen to me.  Jordan is HYDRA.  Nat and Clint have been captured.  _What is your location?_ ” his tone was firm, though Emma felt like she could hear a hint of fear. 

“Yeah,” with a beating heart and sweaty palms, she tried to act as casually as she could.  “We’re just turning off of I-94 onto Cecil Dr.”

“Tony’s tracking you.  We can be there in ten minutes.  Don’t do anything stupid,” Steve warned before cutting the line off. 

“’Kay, talk to you later,” she mumbled to the empty line before tucking her phone into the lining of her boots.  She made a big show of acting like she dropped her phone in the seat before turning to Jordan exasperated. “They’re just so jumpy,” she rolled her eyes and turned after the light shifted green.  “You’d think the Henry thing would be just a one off thing.  Suddenly they’re paranoid about everyone.”  She was rambling, and by the eye contact Jordan made with her, he knew something was up.

_Don’t do anything stupid._

“So where’s your work?” she tried to shift the conversation lightly, looking out to the street and glancing at the long abandoned church to her left. 

“Up the road a little more,” he instructed.  Emma could feel the hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise at his tone.  He was looking directly at her; she could see it out of the corner of her eye. 

Suddenly, Henry Miller joining SHIELD made a lot more sense. 

_Don’t do anything stupid._

If Nat and Clint were captured by HYDRA, there was no telling where they were being held.  If Emma allowed herself to be captured… No.  Terrible plan.

**_Don’t_ ** _do anything stupid._

She turned into an office building’s parking lot and pulled the car into park.  She turned to Jordan to ask him one last thing before got out.

That's when things when to hell and Emma did something stupid. 

Jordan tried to stick her with the end of a syringe, but Emma twisted the vial out of his hand.  It dropped to the floor of the car and before Jordan could flee, Emma slammed her elbow on the child lock. 

His eyes darted a moment before he went for a handgun on his hip.  Emma reacted exactly how Clint and Natasha taught her weeks previously.  The startled Jordan Miller was disarmed and at the end of his own weapon in seconds. 

“What the hell-?” Emma hissed at her brother.

“Come on, you’re not actually surprised are you?” he questioned sharply.  “Why do you think Henry got involved?  He was concerned about his _baby_ brother.” Jordan spat the words in disgust. 

“They _killed_ Henry,” Emma exclaimed, keeping the gun trailed on Jordan.  “What’s going to make you so special?”

“Henry stuck his nose where he wasn’t supposed to,” Jordan murmured.  “I didn’t find out how far he’d gotten until Alec mentioned him.”

 _Alec_.

The name struck Emma like a truck. 

“He knew about the Winter Soldier program, he knew about Siberia,” Jordan’s eyebrows narrowed and a smirk crossed his feature.  “He betrayed secrets to an enemy of HYDRA.  He had to be taken care of.”

“But Zemo-,” Emma’s aim wavered a moment before she shook her head and kept her focus on Jordan. 

“Zemo’s fighting for the same cause as I am,” Jordan replied casually.  “Not HYDRA, not anymore anyway.  We’re fighting for order.  For control.  For _peace_.”

“And Alec?” she practically whispered her former fiancé’s name. 

“An idiot who thinks too highly of himself,” Jordan shrugged.  “He’ll be taken care of soon enough.  I’m honestly surprised your little assassins didn’t get him.  Lucky bastard slipped out before they got there.”

“Where are you keeping them?” Emma demanded, realizing that Jordan was more involved than she would have imagined. 

“Here,” he replied, his attention drifting over Emma’s shoulder. 

Glass shattered around Emma and Jordan took the opportunity to disarm his sister.  Arms reached through the driver’s window and pinned her arms to the side. 

Emma struggled and tried everything she could to pull free, but to no avail. 

“Emma,” a familiar voice purred in her ear.  “Just relax and this will go so much easier for you.”

Jordan climbed out of the car, dusting a few specks of glass off of his shirt. 

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled to Zemo before nodding toward the building.  The Sokovian man pulled Emma along, despite her struggles.  “The Avengers are going to be in the area soon.  Fortunately, we just need to dump the car.  Em dropped her cell phone because she was _scared_ of her little brother.” 

He signaled to another man nearby to handle the task.  Once the group was inside, Emma was tossed unceremoniously into a small room toward the back of the building.

“I need to make sure Alec still has his head up his ass,” Jordan explained to Zemo.  “Do what you want.”

“Jordan!” Emma shouted after her younger brother, but was ignored.

Zemo entered the room and closed the door behind him.  There was an eerie stillness that radiated out of every corner around Emma.

“It’s hard,” Helmut pulled up a chair and offered it to Emma.  Hesitantly, Emma sat in the chair and watched when he pulled up a chair of his own across from the author.  “Losing people.  Whether it’s to our enemies or to death.  It’s all the same, yes?”

Emma glared at Zemo, her arms folding across her chest.  She remained silent. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he explained quietly.  “Not yet, at least.  You’re still valuable.  I’m sure you have plenty of questions.”

Certainly Emma had questions.  She wondered why Alec Reynolds had been sent to destroy her life.  She wondered when her brother joined the former Nazi organization.  She wondered why Jordan suddenly switched sides in favor of whatever chaos Zemo had in store for the world. 

Zemo reached forward for Emma’s hand, but she flinched back, her eyes darting to him dangerously. 

“I’m not a barbarian like that fiancé of yours,” Helmut murmured. 

“Former fiancé,” she muttered stubbornly. 

“He made you suffer, didn’t he?” Zemo tilted his head and tried to sympathize with the brunette.  “He’s inherently a cruel man.  He wanted nothing but chaos and pain.  Alec Reynolds seemed to embrace the mission of the organization he served.” 

Emma’s expression tightened at the name, but she kept her attention forward and focused on Zemo. 

“HYDRA once had a mission of control and order,” he explained, leaning back in his chair.  “It was admirable, until they lost their way.  Factions killed factions, leaders betrayed leaders, it was all so much.  The chaos they sought in the world was their very undoing.  Such senseless killing.”

He stood up and walked past Emma toward a table in the back of the room.  Emma turned to watch each movement the killer took.  He lifted a small device off the table and examined it carefully. 

“I prefer more organization, less chaos,” he commented, touching the tip of the device and smiling to himself.  He looked up at Emma and the grin widened.  “But unfortunately in order to build a new structure, you have to rip out the foundation.  Morals, dignity, the common good…”

He walked back to Emma and traced the side of her face with the small device before sitting back down across from her. 

“That’s why I admire this city,” he mused lightly.  “These broken, old buildings.  These aged structures and corrupted officials.  The only way this city sees a new future is by uprooting and beginning anew.  HYDRA is dated.  Your brother knows it, and so do a few others.  Within a few hours the Avengers will have rescued their friends and stopped this ridiculous scheme of theirs.”

“And what about you?” Emma pressed, her tone lowering while she watched Zemo toy with the device in his hand. 

“The word trusts its heroes.  Whether they drop cities from the sky, or expose criminal organizations.  They’re expected to save the day, and for some time I thought I’d torn the fabric of their structure apart,” he sighed.  “I was wrong.  Until I realized the threads were barely holding on.  Mankind forgives, but never forgets." 

In an instant, Zemo leaned forward and dug the device near Emma’s ribcage.  Her body felt like it was on fire.  Every inch of her skin burned in pain and she fell out of the chair, collapsing on the floor.  He pulled away, satisfied with the result and stood over her broken form.  

“Their egos are as predictable as ever,” he leaned down and pressed the device into Emma’s leg.  She let out a shout of pain and shuddered while the fire shot through her.  He pulled away and watched her try to catch her breath.  “I’m going to kill you.  I’m going to ignite the world in flames, and I will finally find my peace.” 

Emma rolled on her back and wheezed for air, a laugh escaping through her gasps. 

Zemo knelt down near her face and studied the woman carefully.  She felt hysteric.  She was hungover, exhausted and in pain, but she needed to buy herself a little time.

“What?” he questioned sharply. 

“Imagine if I went to this much effort to get revenge on you,” she closed her eyes, preparing for another attack but when it didn’t come, she allowed herself a deep breath.  “We’ve all lost, right?  Hurts like hell.  Not as much as that thing… but geez.  Overkill much?”

That one earned her another round of pain, but when it was over, instead of whimpers she kept chuckling. 

“Seriously, imagine if I spent weeks training in _anger_ and _frustration_ ,” her hand slipped down into her boots and she grasped her phone tightly.  She let out a long breath and closed her eyes, her head sinking down on the pavement.  She suddenly shot open her eyes and smirked.  “Oh wait.  I _did_.”

She swung her hand toward Zemo’s head, hitting his temple with the front of her phone and disorienting him enough for Emma to jump to her feet.  She reminded herself to thank Tony for the device; his promise of shatter proof glass was holding up. 

She kicked over a nearby chair and swung it towards Zemo’s legs before diving for the table and grabbing anything she could get her hands on. 

 _Fantastic_.  She thought to herself looking at her hard gained weapon, a pair of pliers.

Zemo started toward the woman again, but Emma was alert and swung a leg toward his ankles.  It deterred him a moment, but it bought her enough time to go for the door. 

They didn’t lock it.  They’d _underestimated_ her.

_Thank god._

She charged into the hallway, slamming the door closed with her heel.  She ducked around a corner and quickly checked her phone.  It was still lit up, indicating that she was still being tracked. 

Footsteps pounded down the hall and she heard Zemo’s frustrated shouting echo near her.  She continued around the corner, sprinting toward a nearby staircase, only pausing when she heard footfalls on the flights above her.  Her eyes scanning for a weapon, she elbowed a nearby fire extinguisher case, shattering the glass, and grabbed the red canister.  She waited, ready to set it loose on the next person who came her way.

When a shadow of purple rounded the corner, Emma charged at it with no second thought.  But instead of a surprised stranger, she was met with the tip of one of a familiar knife near her throat.

“Emma?” Clint questioned with raised eyebrows.  “What the hell were you going to do with a fire extinguisher?” 

Emma lowered her make-shift weapon and frowned. 

“I really was just hoping for the best,” she admitted with a sigh.  “Where’s Natasha?  I thought you’d been captured.”

“We had been, but they separated us, I was just looking for her, why are you here?” 

“Because my younger brother is a criminal mastermind, apparently,” she replied, running a hand of frustration through her hair.  Above them the grunt of a man echoed down the stairway before an unconscious body dropped to the ground next to them.  

“Nat?” Clint called up.  Emma barely heard the spy drop from a few stories above and land softly next to her partner.  

“You two are too loud,” she mumbled before nodding toward the door Emma had slipped through initially.  “We need to keep moving.”

“Zemo’s out there,” Emma warned, lifting her extinguisher a little higher. 

“Well Alec is up there,” Nat informed the brunette.  “And I imagine he’s a little better armed than our resident psychopath.”

“Zemo it is,” Clint decided, opening the door and ushering Natasha and Emma along the hallway.  The trio paused around a corner while Clint scouted the surrounding halls.

“So why are you here?” Natasha questioned casually.  It was like the pair were in their natural element.  While Emma wanted to run and hide, Clint and Natasha moved through the shadows like a couple of experts.  Though, she supposed, they _were_ experts after all. 

* * *

 


	19. Rescue

* * *

Steve was getting really tired of ignoring the warning bells in his head with regard to Emma Miller.

It was like every time he left the woman alone, some new development came up and she was put into danger. 

His only saving grace was she managed to keep her cell phone on her person and that Nat and Clint had been training with her.  Hopefully it would be enough to keep her safe, at least until he could come to her rescue. 

“Sam, you got eyes?” Steve’s voice came through his teammate’s comms sharply.  It was clear to everyone that he was in full leader-mode. 

“I do,” Sam reported back, the background filled with sounds of air whipping past the aerial teammate. 

“I’ve got a lock on Em,” Tony reported.  “And if Nat’s last coordinates are correct, they should be nearby as well.”

“Let’s move in,” Steve ordered the team, kicking through the front door of the business complex and was met with a barrage of bullets.  He swung his shield toward the masked agent and took him down in seconds.  “Looking a little bare for a HYDRA compound.”  He noted when he realized that reinforcements had not arrived for the fallen agent.

“Five bucks says safe house,” Sam laughed.  “I’m on the roof.  Took down two hostiles." 

An explosion sounded through the comms before it was felt through the building. 

“I see Tony has arrived,” Sam noted.  

Steve worked his way through the winding hallways of the building, noting that it must have housed multiple businesses at some point.  Now, long abandoned, it seemed to be the perfect location for HYDRA and whatever nefarious plans they had in store. 

A stray bullet shot past Steve’s head before the super soldier responded.  With a grunt, he flung his shield in the direction of the shot, knocking down a hidden sniper in the ceiling.  The man hit the ground with a shout and Steve continued moving through the compound.  He was swift in his movements whenever he came across a stray agent.  They really should have known better by now. 

“Tony?  Location on Emma?” Steve questioned his teammate after charging through a locked door in the back of the hallway.  Another empty room. 

“She’s two floors above you,” Tony reported.  “Also anyone else getting the feeling that the party is somewhere else?" 

Steve made a dash for a nearby stairway, skipping steps while he sprinted to the third floor.

When he reached the top landing, he waited by the door after hearing shouts through the hallway. 

Peering through a crack in the door, it looked like HYDRA or Zemo or _someone_ was retreating back toward the edge of the building.  

“Found the party,” Steve reported.

* * *

Emma swung the fire extinguisher at her opponent’s head.  The man dropped in an instant and when he tried to resist, she smashed the metal canister over him a second time for good measure. 

Tossing it aside she knelt next to the downed agent and grabbed what she could in weapons.  Unfortunately, Emma had decided to wear yoga pants that day, as she thought she’d be sitting in a jet on her way back to New York by now. 

Clint appeared at her side, grabbing what she couldn’t and snatching the pistol she’d acquired from her hand to take down a woman who’d appeared around the corner.

He passed it back with a grunt. 

“Watch your back kid,” he warned lightly, hurrying to the woman and snagging her rifle for his own.

When a door flew off its hinges at the end of the hall, Clint grabbed Emma with his right arm, pinning her against a crevice for safety.  She prepared herself for a firefight of bullets, but when none came she released a tense breath.

“Oh, it’s just your boytoy,” Clint muttered when an attack didn’t come to the duo.  He released Emma and continued to scan the area while she hurried toward Steve. 

“You found us,” she murmured once the hero scooped the author into a deep embrace. 

“I always will,” he promised with a murmur into Emma’s ear.  It was terribly cheesy.  In fact, so cheesy that Emma wouldn’t even consider putting the line in one of her books, romance or not.  However, it was exactly what she needed to hear in that moment. 

“How _sweet_ ,” Zemo’s voice drifted from behind the pair before a grenade rolled toward them. 

Steve acted immediately, ducking down to shield himself and Emma from the oncoming blast. 

The pair flew back into Clint and the heroes hit the ground, _hard_. 

Emma’s head was woozy from the impact, but when she saw that everyone was unharmed, she grabbed her gun and started shooting toward Zemo.  He darted around a corner and the author sprinted after him, ignoring the shouts of her friends behind her. 

When Emma was certain she’d caught up with the deranged Sokovian, he’d disappeared. 

It wasn’t long before Clint and Steve caught up to her, the latter flustered by her blatant disregard for safety. 

“He’s gone,” she reported to the pair.  Natasha then joined the group from Emma’s other side, reporting that the agents had been ordered to flee. 

“Tony?” Steve questioned into his comm for clarification.  He gave a curt nod after a pause, indicating that the billionaire agreed with Nat’s assessment. 

“I say we crash HYDRA’s other party,” Clint suggested, stretching his shoulder and pocketing the knife he’d been using.   “It’s in the warehouse up the road.”

Steve looked at Nat and Emma who stood off to the side murmuring to one another. 

“I want Emma back to the jet first,” Steve decided with a frown.  Emma began to protest but was held back by Nat’s hand on her shoulder.

Clint was the first to vouch for her. 

“She beat a man into unconsciousness with a fire extinguisher,” he noted with a grimace.  “She has just a right to be here as any of us.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Steve directed the statement toward Emma who shook her head.  “We can’t afford any distractions right now.”

“I’m better at hand to hand than Wanda,” she argued quickly, knowing that it was common knowledge the Scarlett Witch relied heavily on her powers.  “Not to mention, I know the target just as well as the team.” 

“It’s too dangerous,” Steve continued, his eyes looking to Clint and Natasha desperately for support.  When the two assassins frowned, he relented, realizing it was a lost cause.  “You listen to orders,” he paused and bent over to grab a bullet-proof vest off of one of the downed HYDRA agents.  “You put this on, and you stick to the mid-range thugs.”

“Whatever, _Dad_ ,” Nat snorted, helping Emma into the vest and passing off a few weapons to the brunette.  They didn’t have time to proper suit up, though Tony was able to provide a bit of weaponry once the team met up outside.  

“The warehouse nearby is the primary location of their little scheme,” Clint explained over a 3D model that Tony had pulled up.  “They’re going to brainwash local kids into HYDRA.  I can’t imagine where they got that idea.”

“Then we don’t hold back,” Steve ordered firmly. 

“And if there are innocents?” Sam questioned, airing out the hesitation everyone had hovering about them. 

“Shoot back if they shoot at you, but don’t go for a kill,” he clarified.  Steve was in full Captain America mode.  Emma had only seen the man like this on a few occasions, but it was something else to see it in the field with an actual threat looming around the corner 

Assignments were decided, calls were made, and soon the small team of Avengers got to work.  If they had anything to show for that day, it would at least be stopping Alan Marcel and his goons.

The team dispersed, with Steve, Emma and Nat going in on the ground and the rest moving in from above.  Steve matched his pace with Emma’s, his blue gaze studying the woman carefully. 

“Are you sure about this?” he questioned quietly.  There was a twinge of hope to the question that told Emma he wasn’t entirely sold on the plan.  She pulled out her pistol, checked the bullets and gave a sharp nod. 

“Positive,” she responded.  In fact, Emma had never been so sure of something in her whole life.  She’d worked hard with Clint, Nat and Wanda, and knew that while she couldn’t ever match the skills of an enhanced or the two assassins, she could at least take down a local kid with no training- which was exactly what they were in for. 

* * *

 

The fight was uneventful. 

Without Zemo or Jordan to warn the HYDRA base of the Avengers’ onslaught, the agents had been caught completely off guard by the attack.

Natasha took Alan Marcel into custody without much of a fight on the larger man’s part.  He simply kept asserting that he’d see the team in court, believing the fight to be in violation of the amended Accords. 

Steve was particularly interested in Dr. Smith, the supposed brain-child of the entire scheme- something the lower-ranking agents were quick to spill the beans on.  

Admittedly, Steve’s interest was selfish.  The brain-washing and manipulation was the key to unlocking whatever secrets lurked in the depths of Bucky’s mind.  He wanted his friend back. 

His hope was that T’Challa could get the doctor to talk- to expose some of the secrets HYDRA used to corrupt innocent victims like Bucky.

Of course that brought on a whole new problem with regard to Tony.  The billionaire was still unaware of the former-assassin’s status in Wakanda; and Steve wasn’t sure how to address it with him.  He was tired of secrets; but this was the last one he’d kept from Tony. 

Steve knew it had to come up eventually.  Bucky would heal over time and would return to the United States.  It wasn’t like they could keep him on ice indefinitely.  Tony would find out sooner or later. 

“The business complex is completely cleaned out,” Maria Hill approached Steve with a frown. 

Shortly after arriving at the warehouse, the team had agreed to call the spy organization in.  Nat and Clint had provided the intel for the other active warehouses and everything was taken down in a swoop.  “Also Ross is throwing a huge fit in DC about Zemo.  Apparently he’s being ‘unfairly harassed’ by the Avengers,” she snorted in disgust at the thought of the former general.  “He’s also giving himself and Zemo the credit for taking down this latest HYDRA operation, like it was all this grand scheme.” 

“He’s been laying low,” Steve reattached his shield to his back and folded his arms across his chest.  “He has a pretty loyal group of supporters.  Zemo wants to use HYDRA’s mission as a means to get his revenge.  The problem is he’s much smarter than recent cells.”

“I think you give him too much credit,” Maria commented, trying to muster a smile.  It looked awkward on the normally stern agent’s face and after a few seconds she dropped back to her scowl. 

“I don’t know,” Steve paused a moment in thought.  “He’s the first person to actually disband the Avengers.”

“Just don’t let it happen again,” Maria replied as if it was the simplest order a person could follow.  She was called away by a forensic analyst and Steve was left standing to the side, watching while SHIELD tried to pull as much evidence and information out of the warehouse as possible.

“Today could have gone better,” Emma appeared at Steve’s side, her hands on her hips.  She looked at the warehouse and shook her head.  “I’m sorry my family’s such a dysfunctional mess." 

Steve caught himself laughing at the statement before he turned to look at her.  Her face had a few scratches and the sleeves on her shirt were torn, but overall Emma Miller had handled her own in the fight. 

“What?” she questioned, her eyebrows shooting up.  “You’re _not_ supposed to agree with me.  This is the part where you go ‘oh, it’s not so bad.’”

Steve grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into a hug, burying his face into the top of her head.  He pulled away and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. 

“That’d be a lie, and what sort of example would I be setting if I _lied_?” he teased, earning a light punch from Emma.

And for an instant, Steve forgot about the burning building behind him and the buzz of the SHIELD agents around them.  He had one last priority to sort out. 

“I’m taking you out,” he announced with a nod to himself. 

“You’re saying this isn’t romantic?” Emma pressed with a smirk.  He tugged the back of her brunette ponytail and laughed.  How many times had this woman made him laugh in the last few months?

“I may be old-fashioned, but I don’t think arson is exactly the proper way to woo a woman,” he squared his shoulders, towering over the author.  She looked up at him, excitement playing the browns of her gaze. 

“Oh,” she chuckled placing a finger on his chest.  “You’re going to _woo_ me?" 

“I’ll try my best,” he nodded with a grin.  “Though I should warn you, I’ve made a lot of women swoon.”

“You’re ridiculous Rogers,” she snorted, stepping on her tip-toes to give him a small kiss on the cheek.  At that moment, Sam called her over to identify a few pieces of evidence he was showing to a SHIELD agent and Steve was ushered away by Clint.

“I don’t know about you, but I could go for a long shower and a _whole_ pizza,” the archer stretched his arm over his shoulder and let out a long groan.  “Two whole pizzas.”

“And they say I eat a lot,” Steve retorted lightly.  His attention was still focused on Emma.  He watched her chat with Sam and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear absently.

“Nat and I agreed to keep training her,” Clint explained, breaking the soldier out of his daze.  “Sam wants to help too.”

Steve stayed silent at the comment.  Today was an exception.  He’d only started working with Emma as a way to protect her; to keep her safe when he wasn’t around to do so.  Steve had no intention of training the author for later missions. 

“She doesn’t belong in this world,” he murmured, Emma’s laugh floating through the air to the duo.

“I don’t think you get to make that choice,” Clint replied sympathetically.  “I think the minute Zemo pulled the trigger on her father, she joined our world- whether she wanted to or not.”

Steve frowned.  Even if it was true, he didn’t want to face the hurt and betrayal that the smiling woman masked internally.  Certainly she’d gotten better at hiding her hesitations and fears, but the losses would still burn at the edges of her soul.  He’d been around her long enough to understand that.  Emma Miller held a grudge as long as he did, if not longer. 

“She doesn’t _deserve_ this world,” Steve rephrased.  “None of us do.”

“And yet here we are, protecting the innocent and saving the day,” Clint clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and laughed.  “Besides, you know as well as I know, the kid won’t take no for an answer.  Go figure you two ended up living next to each other.  Stubborn bastards.”

 _Go figure_ , Steve agreed silently. 


	20. Normal

After the team returned to New York, things fell back into a routine for Emma Miller.

Every day she’d train, write, train some more, shower and rest.  Occasionally she would provide some information about Jordan to the team so they could track his and Zemo’s whereabouts more effectively.  But so far, everything had been quiet. 

One afternoon, two weeks after the ordeal in Detroit, Tony called Emma to his office on the top floor of the Tower. 

Emma immediately felt unnerved.  Usually Tony had no problem bursting into whatever area she was in to show her a piece of information or to give her updates on some equipment he was working on. 

Yet, that afternoon a pit formed in the bottom of her stomach when she knocked on Tony’s office door.  It slid open and Emma heard Tony greet her from across the room.

Hesitantly she walked in, nearly jumping out of her skin when the door snapped shut behind her.  Tony shouted for her to make herself comfortable while he tinkered with a piece of his suit amidst the sounds of classic rock.  Emma shrugged at the comment and wandered around the room, studying pictures and reading the news headlines the billionaire had taken the time to frame and display. 

The office was really more of a lab.  Aside from the standard desk and chair, the room was filled with inventions and pieces of robotic equipment from top to bottom.  There wasn’t a single surface in the room that wasn’t covered with some sort of project that Tony was working on. 

By the looks of it, Emma realized, Tony got about as much sleep as she did on a daily basis. 

“Sorry about that,” he finally grunted, wiping his hands off and setting down a screw driver.  He made his way over to his desk and gestured for Emma to take a seat in front of him.  “Had to calibrate that perfectly or- well, big explosion.” 

“It’s all right,” she murmured quietly.  While Tony typed away at his computer, Emma picked at her nails nervously.  She hadn’t felt so nervous in months, yet suddenly she had this overwhelming feeling of dread about what Tony Stark was going to tell her.

“You can calm down,” Tony chided without even looking at the author.  A smirked played on his features while he worked.  Emma immediately dropped her hands into her lap.  She opened her mouth to argue the accusation, but Tony beat her to the punch, whirling around a computer monitor to face her.

“What’s this?” she questioned in puzzlement.  The screen was mostly static before adjusting to a frame of a darkened and empty room. 

“ _This_ ,” Tony explained pointing at the screen.  “This is what Coulson gave you at the funeral.  It was a pain in the ass to decrypt, but I figured you should see what’s on it before I show it to the rest of the team.” 

Emma bit her bottom lip, watching as a haggard looking Henry Miller filled the screen. 

“ _It’s uh_ ,” he paused to look at something off screen.  “ _It’s April 15 th_.”  He frowned, his hand going to tug at his brunette hair.  “ _By the time this is shown to you, you’ll know that I really fucked up_.” 

He let out a long sigh and settled back into his chair. 

“ _Helmut Zemo has been tracking down former HYDRA operatives to get information about the Winter Soldier.  As a friend, he approached me for addresses.  I gave the information willingly.  I believed he was fighting the same battle I was_.”

Emma released a breath she’d been holding since the video began.  Tears pricked at her lids, but she did everything in her power to keep them down.  She knew exactly where this clip was going. 

“ _Helmut Zemo murdered my father three years ago in cold blood,_ ” he explained, his voice growing in confidence while he spoke.  “ _I found this out- about 12 hours ago from the man himself.  I’m-_ ,” his voice cracked and he looked to the side of the room, gathering his composure.  “ _I’ve made a difficult decision.  I gave him sensitive information pertaining to the Siberian HYDRA base via a colleague named Alec Reynolds.  I intend to ambush him when he arrives.  If everything goes according to plan, I will be reaching out with all of the information I’ve gathered about this particular sector of HYDRA_.”

He leaned forward into the camera, his features a mix of fear and determination. 

“ _If I fail in my mission, I’ve instructed the post office to send this drive via civilian mail if I do not come to collect it in three days,”_ he shifted a little, adjusting the camera as it lost focus.  Emma could feel her heart beat quicken with every movement.  “ _I understand this sabotages my mission, but I figure that since the mission doesn’t technically exist; I’m kind of off the hook._ ”  He gave a bitter laugh, his expression lighting up for just an instant.  He fell silent for a few more second before shaking his head and reaching forward to turn the camera off.  “ _Wish me luck._ ”

The screen went black and Emma’s eyes immediately darted to Tony for answers. 

“They knew?”  she questioned, her hands shaking at the information.  “SHIELD knew what he was going to do and they didn’t even look for him?”

Tony frowned at the woman’s reaction.  He let out a long sigh and shook his head.

“Coulson didn’t receive the transmission.  Another sector of SHIELD received it during their re-building.  That sector didn’t have Henry’s location or information, Coulson did.  Of course everything was pieced together once Zemo acted, we found the Siberian base, and you stepped into the picture.”

Emma sat, shell-shocked from the news.  It was just so sad, so devastatingly sad.  He fought so courageously and the agency that should have recovered his damn body had _lost_ him. 

“There’s about fifty or so videos on each drive,” Tony continued slowly, allowing Emma to digest the information.  “The earlier videos confirm HYDRA’s original plan to manipulate urban youth about a decade or so ago.  I’m having Coulson prep some of the research Henry acquired to see if it matches up to the current plan.”

“ _Jordan_ ,” Emma finally managed to mutter.  “Jordan was part of that initial group.” 

Tony nodded sadly, his gaze studying Emma.  To her, it seemed like he was waiting for a complete meltdown; something similar to what had happened when she’d first arrived. 

“We might be able to bring him back,” Tony tried to assure her.  Emma shook her head sharply and stood up from her chair.  “According to Hill they’ve already started some of the suggested therapies that Henry had stolen from them on the new batch.  It’s impossible to try and track down everyone from the initial trials, but if we can find Jordan…  That’s primarily what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Emma bit her lip.  It sounded like Tony was trying to ask her permission to use her younger brother as a guinea pig for their tests.  Emotionally she was torn, but logically she knew what needed to be done.

“He’s too far gone,” Emma replied sharply.  “Chemically altered or not, he’s already committed himself to them.  He’s killed and killed and left his family to the dogs.” 

It was cold of her, yet Emma felt no regret at what she was saying.  Jordan had tried to have her killed.  He sold Henry out and as far as she was concerned, sent Alec to her to safeguard his control on Henry’s situation. 

Months ago, she would have been a wreck at this revelation.  Today she was just angry. 

“If you want to watch more-,” Tony began but Emma quickly held up a hand. 

“Not today,” she replied quietly.  “He isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

With that final statement, she turned and left the office.  Her mind was reeling with emotions.  She wasn’t even sure how to begin addressing the list of dysfunction that lurked within her.  Everyone was a traitor.  Everyone stabbed everyone in the back.  Forget angry, Emma was furious.

 _Yet-_ a part of her grieved.  It grieved for the life her brothers could have had, it grieved for her mother- alone in that big house in Detroit-, it grieved because she would have done the exact same thing Henry had done.  

She wasn’t sure when she’d slammed the button in the elevator for the training area, but she was relieved when the doors opened on that floor.  The area was about abandoned, aside from Steve and Sam wrapping up a sparring match. 

Both men looked up at the woman’s entrance and offered smiles to the disgruntled brunette.

“You’re done early,” Sam commented with a glance at the gym’s clock.  “Tony made it sound like you’d be stuck with him all afternoon.”

Emma silently dug through a nearby cabinet for some hand wraps. 

After a tense quiet, she finally spoke.

“He told me everything I need to know,” she began wrapping her wrists and palms carefully.  Was that part of Tony’s plan?  To get her so angry she’d continue to fight with them?  Or did he really have an interest in bringing her baby brother back?  Her mind was wrapped in so much frustration and angst, she didn’t notice Sam slip out of the room at Steve’s behest. 

“You’re angry,” he stated simply, holding the punching bag Emma approached.    

“I am,” she confirmed with a cross punch to the center of the bag.  The punching bag rattled at the attack but Steve was unfazed.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly.

“Not particularly,” she grunted.  She swung a leg at the bottom of the bag and nearly knocked it out of Steve’s distracted grasp. 

“What did he say?” Steve continued to press the author for more information and finally she relented, pausing her workout and adjusting her wraps. 

“He wants to fix Jordan,” she explained.  “The USBs had video journals and a ton of information on the original program.  He thinks some of the therapies Henry suggested might get Jordan’s mind out of HYDRA’s hands.”

She started a barrage of punches into the bag, grunt with each hit.  Her hands were already beginning to ache with each impact.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” he questioned, releasing the bag a moment and getting hit in the shoulder by its momentum.

“Jordan isn’t like Bucky,” she tried to explain, her mind finally calming and her thoughts clearing.  “He was a child when they started this shit.  He wasn’t frozen between manipulations.  They ripped out the innocent kid he was and stuffed in the psychopath he is today.  Even if there’s a ‘fix’ to all of this, what does Jordan even have of a previous life?  He didn’t have friends, Henry and I failed as siblings.  At least Bucky had _you_.”

They both stopped moving, the words settling between the pair before Steve walked toward Emma and pulled her into a tight hug. 

She hadn’t realized how much she needed the gesture until she found herself sinking into his chest.  She drank in as much of the moment as she could, trying to build herself another stabilizing point amongst the warmth and the scent of his musky after-shave.

He pulled away, his hands still resting on her shoulders, and gave her a shaky smile. 

“T’Challa pulled Bucky out of ice today,” he explained, his eyes sparking with the smallest hint of hope.  “The Wakandan’s have a few tricks they’ve developed.  Tony and T’Challa have been going over Henry’s reports all week with SHIELD.  It’s possible, with time, Jordan might be able to have a life again.”

“What is even left?” she murmured miserably.  Perhaps that was what bothered Emma the most.  Aside from the killer and HYDRA agent, Jordan had nothing.  Obviously his interests of dinosaurs and bugs wouldn’t carry over into the ‘new’ Jordan, assuming he was ‘cured’ of his brainwashing. 

“Well,” Steve looked thoughtful a moment before tilting Emma’s chin up to get a better look at her.  “He won’t be the child Jordan, but he also won’t be the HYDRA agent Jordan.  I’m willing to bet that there’s something else there though.”

 _Something else_ , she mentally repeated.  Steve wiped his thumb along the edge of Emma’s eye, catching a tear before it stumbled down her cheeks. 

“This life is never easy.  Just like with Buck, he’s gonna have a tough time adapting to the life he lost,” he gave her another small smile.  “But I know he has a big sister who’s willing to help him through it.”

Emma let out a defeated sigh and leaned forward, crashing her forehead into Steve’s chest and staring at the ground. 

“Can’t you just let me be miserable?  It’s so much easier,” she groaned before looking up at her soldier with a grin.  “You and your insufferable optimism."

“It’s terrible, I know,” he agreed lightly.  “Probably why I’m only friends with other unbearable optimists.  I’m sure it’ll rub off soon enough.”

He slung an arm around Emma’s shoulder and pulled her close while the two of them left the training room.  It was ridiculous the effect on Emma this man had.  Ever since the beginning, when he slipped her the notice from her landlord; he pulled the positive out of her when she was drowning in the negative. 

She only hoped that she could do a fraction for him of what he did for her. 

* * *

“Shouldn’t you shower or something?” Clint questioned Emma a few afternoons after her encounter with Tony.  “I thought you and Steve were doing something tonight?”

The author kept her attention focused on her laptop, typing away at a final sentence before glancing up at her friend. 

“What time is it?” she asked, half-dazed.  She’d been putting all her attention into her new book and training that the hours and days seemed to have melted together.  On this particular day, she’d camped out in the kitchen, her notes and charging cords scattered around her. 

“4:30,” Peter entered the room and glanced over Emma’s shoulder at the computer screen.  “You have a run-on sentence in paragraph two.” 

Emma slammed her computer shut and and glared at the teenager. 

“Not looking for a new editor,” she snapped before leaning forward onto the laptop and letting out a long groan.

“Not excited?” Clint questioned.  He fidgeted with the coffee maker, swearing under his breath a few times before getting the machine to work. 

“I am,” she replied gripping her bottom lip between her teeth.  “It’s just the last time we went out we got accosted by Zemo and a sinking ferry.  Not exactly the most romantic endeavor.”

Peter snorted into a glass of orange juice he’d just poured himself. 

“That’s _right_ ,” he recalled with a grin.  “Your first date.”

“Shut up,” Emma tossed a ball of paper at the hero, which was caught without much effort.  “It ruined the sketchbook I’d bought him.  Not to mention it trashed my cell phone.” 

Clint shrugged at the comment, taking a long sip of his hot coffee and visibly relaxing. 

“Pretty sure phones are a dime a dozen around here,” he added, holding up his own phone for emphasis.  “Destroyed _at least_ six of these in the last year.” 

“ _Seven_ ,” Natasha corrected.  She slid into the kitchen and plucked the mug out of Clint’s hands, taking a long sip for herself.  “You forgot last week when you dropped it in the toilet.”

“Seven-,” Clint agreed with a gesture toward Emma.  “You’re really over thinking this.  You beat a man half to death a few weeks ago.  I’m sure you’ll be fine.” 

“Aww, nervous about your big date?” Nat teased, earning a blush from the flustered author.  “Steve’s been planning it since we got back, something about treating you right." 

Emma’s breath caught at that, her face lighting up even redder than she’d thought possible.  Mumbling something about not touching her computer and a shower, she escaped the kitchen to a chorus of laughter between the three heroes.  

 

Steve, meanwhile, had been making sure every detail was perfect.  He wanted to do everything in his power to fix the disaster of an outing last time.  He arranged with Wanda to drop off an evening dress for Emma around 5, and had arranged for a car to pick the pair up at 6. 

After that, it was a series of events that he’d been thinking about doing with Emma since the moment he laid eyes on the woman.  Dinner, a movie, dancing… he had it all planned out, though each one had a unique twist that he was sure the brunette would love. 

He stepped into his shower, running through the itinerary a few more times until the hot water hit his shoulders and washed the stress off of him.  He was sure that even if they sat on the edge of a marina, they’d both be happy.  The nerves were still there, though he was having a difficult time separating those for the butterflies of excitement that danced around his stomach. 

Steve Rogers finally had a shot at normal, even if for just an evening. 

* * *

 

 

 


	21. Salted Wound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW. Smut. Fluff. Enter at your own risk. 
> 
> Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and Joyous Kwanza. 
> 
> Enjoy.

* * *

 

It had been Wanda who gave Emma her final approval for the date.  

“I was perfect with the size,” the hero noted triumphantly.  She reached up and adjusted the deep violet sleeve and smiled over Emma’s shoulder into the full length mirror.  “It’s going to be fun.  Don’t look so miserable.” 

Emma snorted and looked away, distracting herself with a necklace so she didn’t have to respond to the comment.

She was excited, but also a little nervous. 

Initially the author had chalked up the nerves to their previous outing, but as she showered and got ready, Emma realized she was just anxious about the whole “dating” thing.

She was beyond rusty in how to handle herself in a public setting, not to mention with Steve Rogers, king of 1940s chivalry and charm. 

“He’s nervous too,” Wanda assured her from across the room, a grin on her features.  When Emma shot the woman a look of protest, Wanda shrugged and passed off a simple necklace to her.  “Your thoughts are so loud you’re basically shouting them.” 

Emma took the necklace and adjusted it over her shoulders, glancing in the mirror again. 

Of course it went flawlessly with the violet dress.

“I think you’re just trying to buy time,” Wanda laughed, handing the flustered brunette her jacket and watching with amusement while Emma fidgeted with a pair of black tights and heels. 

The dress wasn’t anything fancy.  It had some frills, but fell just below her knees.  Unfortunately, the December New York air wouldn’t be forgiving so Emma decided on a pair of insulated tights early in the dressing process.

The heels, both women decided, dressed it up just enough for a nice dinner or _whatever_ Steve had planned for the evening. 

As a final touch, Wanda handed Emma a small garter with a tiny handgun secured inside.  Emma slid the weapon over her thigh and sent her friend a reassuring smile.

Emma Miller was ready.  With a deep breath, she made her trek toward the lobby of the Tower where Steve was supposed to meet her.

* * *

“And the dinner reservations?” Steve looked at his watch for the fifth time in the conversation.

“Done,” Sam confirmed with a look to Tony.  “Everything is done.  Just _chill_.”

“With the added benefit of security so Zemo and his friends can’t slip in without you noticing,” Tony slapped Steve in the shoulder and beamed.

“Not that we’re too worried about either of you holding your own,” Sam eyed the back of Steve’s dress pants where a pistol had been concealed. 

“I just don’t want any surprises,” the super-soldier murmured, his eyes darting to the elevator after he heard it chime. 

 “I think you’re just nervous for a night on the town with a pretty lady,” Tony chortled.  Sam opened his mouth to protest but couldn’t think of a response and instead chuckled with the billionaire. 

Steve flushed.  It was pretty obvious, wasn’t it?  He definitely didn’t have the experience either of the men around him had.  Women didn’t even look his way until after the serum, and even then he’d been a bit distracted with HYDRA, aliens… it just never ended. 

“Wow,” Tony commented toward the soft sound of heels approaching.  “You actually look like a woman.” 

“ _Wow_ ,” Emma replied dryly.  “You said the _exact_ same thing the night of the gala.  Work on some more original material.”  She gave the genius a playful punch in the shoulder, before she made eye contact with Steve. 

“I think you look fantastic,” he quickly choked out.  Sam and Tony excused themselves after realizing the moment was now between the couple. 

“Thanks,” she gave a small twirl in the dress before grinning up at him.  “This super cute guy picked it out for me.” 

Steve felt his ears burn at the compliment before shooting back.

“Must have pretty good taste.” 

“I think so,” she agreed.  Then silence fell between the two.  Emma bit at her bottom lip a moment before Steve spoke up again.  He felt his heart pause at the small action, his body going numb and his mind falling blank.

“I have a car waiting out front,” he pointed toward the door, suddenly flustered and falling behind on schedule.  He glanced at his watch to break the spell and focus on the task at hand.

“No motorcycle?” she mocked disappointment, her face falling into a pout before Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the door.

“In those shoes?  I don’t think so,” he teased, pulling her a little closer as the cold winter air hit their faces and he felt the smaller woman tremble. 

“I can go change,” she offered before falling quiet at the sight of the town car sitting in front of the tower.  “Actually, on second thought…” 

He allowed a deep laugh, opening the door of the town car for his date and helping her inside.  He slid in next to her and leaned toward the front of the car to quietly murmur their destination to the driver.

“So Brooklyn, huh?” Emma guessed, her attention drifting to the window where the infamous bridge now surrounded the small car. 

“Seemed as good a place to start as any,” he replied.  “Besides, nothing quite beats that hometown charm.”

* * *

“You rented out the diner,” Emma stood outside the small diner that she and Steve Rogers had visited together months previously.  “The _whole_ diner?”

“Just for an hour,” he shrugged and held open the glass door, ushering the woman inside.  “It actually took a lot less effort than you’d think…”

“You probably just started with ‘Hi, this is Captain America…’,” she murmured, her voice trailing off while she offered a wave to the owner of the small Brooklyn diner.

They were greeted with smiles, and an overly excited waitress was soon at their side to take their drink order.

“I’ll have a water,” Emma glanced at the menu, her eyes meeting Steve’s for an instant before a mischievous smile flashed on her face.  “And a chocolate milkshake." 

Steve snorted into his menu.  Of course.  The two of them were dressed to the T, arrived in a Town Car, and she ordered a milkshake.

“That sounds fantastic, actually,” he agreed with a curt nod in Emma’s direction.  “I’ll have what the lady is having.”  The waitress hesitated a moment after meeting his eye line before disappearing into the kitchen. 

Emma shook her head, a small laugh shaking her frame. 

“God, you’re really that oblivious,” she commented to Steve’s confusion.  “I think you might have broken our waitress.”

“What?” he blinked at his date, glancing toward the kitchen where their waitress was peering out the kitchen window.

“You’re a heartbreaker,” Emma declared, clasping her hands together and setting them on the tabletop.  “I should have known.”

“I didn’t break your heart, did I?” he asked, suddenly nervous at the realization of what the waitress was interested in.  “You know I’ve only got eyes for you.”

“Oh?  That’s news to me,” she smiled, reaching forward to hold his hands in hers.  He was always amazed how small her hands were compared to his.  They sat in silence a moment longer before Emma started small talk. 

“Have you heard from Bucky?” she questioned lightly, her expression exposing that she was willing to tread the subject lightly if he needed her to. 

“Talked to him a few nights ago,” Steve admitted.  He leaned back in the booth, his fingers still locked with the author’s.  “He’s doing better.  Still haven’t broken the news to Stark, though I’m sure T’Challa can’t wait much longer.”

Emma hummed in acknowledgement, digesting the news with a nod. 

“Not sure if I should be the one to break it to him or,” he paused.  “Let T’Challa take the heat?  Seems like Tony and I have a stable something going on right now.  I’d hate to ruin that, but if that means Bucky comes back…” 

Emma squeezed his hand lightly and offered a warm smile. 

“I don’t think there’s a perfect answer,” she replied quietly, her eyes drifting over Steve’s shoulder to the waitress who had appeared with their drink order. 

“You two ready for food?” the young woman squeaked out, her attention focusing on Emma so she could fight down the blush on her features. 

Emma shot her soldier a grin before ordering her meal.  Steve melted at the look, reciprocating with a small smile of his own.  Tonight was already perfect.

* * *

“You ever give thought to what you’re doing after this whole Avengers thing?” Emma’s fingers were laced tightly through Steve’s as they walked down the road from the diner.  Their stomachs were stuffed and Emma had suggested a moonlit stroll in the snow before their next activity. 

“I think we’ve talked about this before,” he pointed out lightly, his gaze falling on the sidewalk in front of him.  He frowned.  That was the question of the year, wasn’t it?  “I guess I can only counter with, does the world ever not need saving?”

Emma nodded, keeping pace with the super-soldier and skipping to jump over a small sheet of ice.  

“Ok, but like, say you got married and had a kid,” she offered as a counterpoint.  “Are you really going to be flying to Siberia in the middle of the night if your one-year-old has whooping cough and your wife has a 12 hour shift the next day?" 

He stopped and looked at Emma, his eyes widening at the hypothetical. 

“That seems pretty specific,” he stated in surprise.  “I mean; I guess that’s one of those bridges I’d cross when I get there.  Heck, I don’t even think Howard ever gave me a definitive answer on whether or not I could even have kids.  So it might not even be an issue.”

They continued walking again, Emma falling silent, thinking about their conversation before speaking up.  Clearly she had something on her mind, but wasn’t sure how to phrase it to him.  He felt his stomach twist into a tight knot, expecting the worst when the brunette opened her mouth to speak.

“My sequel gets published next year,” she began, doing everything in her power to avoid eye contact with the hero.  She was nervous.  “So I’m going to be sticking around New York for a bit longer than I’d planned.  I’m going to move my mom out here to keep her closer to me, with Jordan and all…” she rambled, fidgeting with the edge of her jacket with her free hand.   The pair had made it to a small park where they made their way toward a swing set. 

Steve stayed quiet, waiting for Emma to get on with what she was trying say.  Was this her way of saying goodbye?  He couldn’t blame her.  With his inconsistent life and her constantly being in danger… it wasn’t like the author could stay a permanent member of the team.  She had a life.  A family…

“I’m just-,” she frowned before plopping down on one of the swings and staring up at Steve.  “I’m really falling for you Steve, and I need to know if the feeling is mutual or if this is some sort of fling…”

It was in that moment, amidst the flurries of snow and the abandoned park, Steve Rogers leaned down and pulled Emma into a deep kiss.  His fingers laced into her hair, and he felt her body loosen at the action.  When they pulled away, snowflakes had caught in her hair, and their breath intermingled in the space between them. 

The feeling was more than mutual.  He hadn’t felt anything like this since Peggy, and even then, he’d gone under before he could sort through all of the emotions. 

“Emma,” he breathed watching those gorgeous brown eyes light up at the mention of her name.  “I’m falling in love with you.  I’m all in if you are.” 

“ _All in_ ,” she repeated in a whisper before pulling him down to her level by his scarf for another kiss. 

* * *

It was the tiniest bar Emma had ever seen.  Yet the small stage and the warm wood of the bar surface created a blanket of nostalgia for a place she’d never been before. 

Steve picked a cozy table at the corner of the room and helped Emma out of her coat and into the chair.  He set his own coat down before making his way to the bar to place their order.  

When he returned, the jazz band had shifted to a softer vibe that now filled the room.  Emma could feel every thrum of the bass and pull of the trumpet through her very core.  It was like magic. 

“It’s not too small is it?” Steve interrupted Emma’s daze a moment and pulled the woman back to reality.  

Emma reached forward, grabbing her soldier’s hands and letting out a smile.  

“It’s fine,” she assured him with a chuckle.  “I didn’t think places like this existed anymore, or even at all.  I thought they were only in movies.” 

He looked visibly relieved at the comment, his shoulders loosening a bit before melting forward into her touch. 

“I didn’t either,” he admitted, his voice dropping as the music shifted and the room quelled in silence.  “It took FRIDAY and I a whole afternoon to track it down.”

Two men in suits sat down at a booth a few feet away from the heroic couple and Emma leaned forward to whisper into Steve’s ear.

“I feel like I’m in an old mob movie,” she murmured.  “Do you think they bootleg their booze in?  When do you think Capone will be here?”  She stifled a giggle while Steve’s expression turned serious. 

“Now what kind of date would I be to take a lady to a speak easy?” he questioned, his eyebrow arching while the waiter approached their table and placed two drinks in front of the pair. 

 “A _fun_ one,” Emma picked up the crystal glass and examined it carefully.  “It _looks_ legit.  But I’m gonna wait until you drink first.  Could be poisoned.”

“Fair enough, doll,” he took a long swig of the whiskey and coke.  He set the cup down before raising a mocking look at Emma.  “Lots of people out for my skin.”

“You _are_ the epitome of truth and justice after all,” she followed suit and took a sip, letting the warm liquid fill her.  There was something about the room, the drinks and her date that pulled her back into the daze again.  That _spell_ that only Steve Rogers could cast on her.

“What can I say,” he squeezed her hand.  “It’s hard work being the good guy all the time.”

“All the time?” she questioned.  She furrowed her brows and shook her head.  “I don’t believe that for a second Mr. Rogers.”

“And why is that, Miss Miller?” 

“For starters, you’ve been giving me a less than innocent looks all night,” she replied quietly, her words nearly muffled by the drink she continued to work on.  She wasn’t used to being so bold, but despite the blush that threatened to crawl onto her cheeks, she kept expression straight and her smile coy.

He leaned forward at that, his brow arching and his voice lowering just below the hum of the bar and the small jazz ensemble.

“You caught me,” he admitted, his hand reaching out to play with hers.  His fingers danced over the tops of her hand and wrist, like he was antsy for something.  “You just look absolutely gorgeous; I can’t help it.”

“Have some self-control, Rogers,” she pulled her hand away teasingly.  “I am a lady after all.”

She smirked, watching his blue eyes register her game before a matching grin worked its way across his face. 

He picked up his drink and downed in it a single gulp before standing up to spin Emma out of her chair and into his chest. 

Emma had to remind herself to breathe once those blue eyes locked with her and guided her toward the small dance floor in the center of the room. 

“And I’m a gentleman, if you don’t recall,” he chastised pulling her toward his chest and swaying to the soft lull of the piano.  “So I’d appreciate it if you kept your head out of the gutter.” 

The way he murmured the last part into her ear made Emma nearly tremble.  For once, she didn’t have a sassy remark or something quick to say in return.  Instead, she fell deeper into the spell, glancing up at Steve and allowing him to glide her across the small space. 

He gave her another spin, and stopped her with an embrace while the song wrapped up.  She froze while the final note held until she remembered, once again, to breathe.

A few more people had wandered into the small night club, so the band began to pick up the tempo and Steve took that as his chance to guide Emma back to their table.  The author barely made it back on wobbly feet, deciding to order another drink to calm her nerves and silent the static that pulsed through her head. 

While dealing with her own frustrations and thoughts, Emma didn’t even notice the flush that had gone through Steve’s expression after the dance.

The super-soldier ordered something a little stronger, hoping that some effect might take away the burning that stated in his body the moment Emma was against him.

It was no wonder Bucky suggested dancing when Steve mentioned the date a few days ago.  There was something about it, some sort of voodoo that knocked him out of his senses at the enticing woman in front of him.  

He needed more.

He slid a little closer, watching Emma for signs that he was stepping beyond his means.  Instead, she wrapped her ankle around his and tried to play it off casually by looking the other way and taking a sip of her drink.

“Be careful doll,” he warned, his voice cracking subtlety at the move.  “I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

That was the moment Emilya Marie Miller short-circuited Steven Grant Rogers. 

“ _Good_ ,” she whispered off hand, her fingers tracing the edge of his arm.  She excused herself to the ladies’ room after that, leaving Steve frozen in place.  He was certain he didn’t move the entire time she was gone, his mind jumping from significantly X-rated scenarios to more gentlemanly deeds. 

It took a lot of will-power, but when Emma returned and finished her drink, he gestured back toward the dance floor. 

He needed to get rid of this excess energy somehow, and he wasn’t entirely sure how.  But dancing was a start.

Or so he thought.

He had to have been cursed.  It was like the moment they stepped back on the floor, the band decided to terrorize him and start another slow tune. 

Emma was disappointed, to say the least.  It wasn’t that she was expecting to jump in bed with Steve Rogers that night, but she was kind of hoping for a little more private relocation after their interaction at the table. 

Instead, he’d practically dragged her back to the dance floor, his body stiffening when the next song came up and he pulled her back toward him.  It was unbearable. 

“ _Steve_ ,” she muttered into his chest.  It came out more like a whimper than Emma had hoped.  But it did its job.

“You’re not even fair,” he growled in response before spinning her out and stopping mid-way through the dance.  They hurried their way toward the table, Steve fishing out crumpled bills and Emma quickly pulling on her coat.  It felt like an instant before they were out the door and back in the Town Car. 

For once, Emma was thankful for privacy windows and rolled the partition up while Steve directed the driver with the simple instruction to go to the tower.

Once it was just the two of them, Emma was in Steve’s lap, her hands locking behind his neck, her mouth smashing against his.  His hands worked their way around her, grabbing at her behind and lifting her to lay her down on the backseat.  He repositioned, kissing and biting at her neck and collarbone, working his way down to the neckline of her dress before pausing.

When Emma let out a frustrated groan, he muffled it with his mouth.  Emma’s hand found its way to his tie, loosening it and pulling it free so she could work on his shirt. 

Two buttons in, the car came to a stop and the driver announced they were at their destination. 

Sitting up abruptly, the pair tried to pull themselves together, with Emma straightening Steve’s hair and Steve reaching forward to the pull her scarf over the marks on her neck.

“Your room or mine?” she whispered, leaning across him to open the car door. 

“ _Mine_ ,” came his simple reply before they climbed out of the Town Car and hurried back into the tower. 

It was late, so fortunately everyone had long fallen asleep. 

Everyone, that was, except Tony Stark who sat up in the living area with a cup of coffee and a laptop in front of him. 

Emma muttered a quick greeting before slipping away toward the hallway that housed hers and Steve’s rooms.  Steve was shortly behind her, making a show of taking off his tie and sauntering toward the hall to avoid suspicion. 

“Date go well?” Tony questioned from the table.  He looked up at his companion.  “She seemed to be in a hurry.  Didn’t mess it up, did you?”

Steve grumbled a noncommittal response before excusing himself and practically sprinting toward his room. 

 When the door slid open, Emma was standing in the middle of the room, her discarded coat thrown over a nearby office chair.  Her eyes sparked up when he approached her and lifted her by the waist, pressing her back against the wall of the bedroom.  Picture frames rattled from the abrupt movement, but neither partner seemed distracted by the clamoring of knick-knacks.  

Emma was busying herself with working Steve’s dress coat off, tossing the dark fabric to the floor before working her way up his neck with soft kisses.  Steve let out moan, the sound catching in his throat when she started to trace her hands up his chest.  

He lifted her toward his desk, sliding piles of paperwork to the side so they could work their way on top.  It didn’t take long for Steve to end up shirtless, with a quivering Emma under him.  Decidedly, she had too many clothes on, and Steve made it his mission to change that.   Starting with her heels and tights, and ending with the zipper on her back, they rolled across the surface tasting and feeling every inch of one another for the first time. 

When Emma nearly fell off the surface, she was caught by Steve’s arm and he swung her up to her feet.  It was quite the sight, the two of them.  Him, shirtless with his belt nearly falling out, and Emma with her dress nearly fall off of her shoulder.  For safety’s sake, they silently agreed on the bed, where they finished their handy-work-pulling out weapons and setting them to the side with small laughs. 

Once the pair was down to their under garments, they froze.  Steve was over Emma, breathing heavily and drinking in every inch of her delicate skin.  He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life.  Sure, there were scars that littered the surface that she hid masterfully, but Steve was attracted to the soul, the mind of the woman squirming under him and biting at her lip. 

He leaned up and took the lip into his mouth, nibbling at the surface before slipping his tongue into her mouth and moving his hands around her bra clasps on her back. 

Steve was harder than he thought was imaginable, and it seemed that Emma was in a similar state.  Whenever they pulled away, they were breathless, trying to catch up before another round started. 

 He worked her bra free.  She managed to pull the remainder of his clothing off, and with one final movement, he had Emma completely naked under him. 

This was it. 

“Do you want to do this?” he murmured, nuzzling into her neck and guiding a line of kisses from her neckline to her breasts. 

“More than anything,” she replied, tightly clutching his hair in her hands.  Her hips kept moving dangerously close to his own, and he suddenly remembered a small cache of condoms in his dresser Clint had jokingly given him earlier in the night.  That archer definitely had some insight. 

“One sec,” Steve grumbled, fumbling to the side of his king sized mattress and rustling through the drawer until he found his prize.  When he returned his attention to the author, she was on her side, gazing at him adoringly before beckoning him over. 

She helped him with the condom, her hands working their way around him member, earning a few involuntary curses and grunts of pleasure.  

They both needed this.  That much was clear between the two of them.  Emma gave him a small, reassuring kiss before he slid inside of her. 

Her gasp nearly ended it right there.  Her eyes were squeezed shut until he found a good rhythm and started working his way in and out.  Her walls tightened with every movement, and every inch of Emma was perfection in his eyes.  He kissed her again, running a gentle hand across her cheek.  They both were at a loss for words, their bodies falling into their natural movements. 

A touch here.  A kiss there.

He toyed with her breasts, earning a startled whimper from his author. 

It was slower and softer than their desperate session before.  It wasn’t so much an unleashing of desires than making love.  The perfect harmony of two people becoming one for a night. 

Amongst the groans, the cries of pleasure and the whispers of promises, they finished with a beautiful climax that left Steve trembling. 

* * *

 


	22. Name

* * *

 

_Screaming._

That’s what caught Emma’s attention first.

Until she realized that the screaming was her own. 

Smoke closed throughout her lungs and she could feel the licking flames biting at her skin, threatening to climb her at any moment. 

In the distance, smoke had cleared.  Someone had opened a door and Emma immediately recognized the silhouette amongst the panic and chaos of what she realized was a TV studio.  The figure pulled a trigger and Emma could feel the bullet rip through her shoulder.

She choked herself awake, eyes darting around an unfamiliar room until they settled on a concerned, _naked_ , Steve Rogers.  

“What happened?” he asked, wrapping an arm around Emma’s shoulders and pulling her closer to his chest.  He nuzzled his face into the mop that was Emma’s hair and waited for her to respond. 

“It was Jordan,” she replied, her voice sounding distant and weary.  “There were flames and screams and he tried to shoot me.”

Steve let out a small noise of acknowledgement and allowed the author to continue. 

“… I think he was at the Today Show,” it was a painful truth to admit, but it made sense.  No one else except family would have gotten enough clearance to be that close.  Unless a set designer was HYDRA.

Steve sat up, his sheet wrapped around his torso, so he could get a better look at the woman next to him. 

“We could run the footage again,” he offered lightly.  “Though pinning him to it… that would complicate things a bit.”

Emma frowned.  For the same reasons Bucky was in legal trouble, Jordan would find himself in a similar situation.  He’d be wanted.  He’d have to go through law and order in order to clear himself; assuming he’d even be willing to do that.  She shook her head and buried it into the mountain of pillows surrounding her.

She allowed a yawn and snuggled closer to Steve, her heart rate decreasing significantly since the nightmare. 

“Then let’s worry about it in the morning,” she mumbled, her eyes closing and her mind drifting off to the sound of Steve’s heartbeat. 

The hero let out a laugh and ran a hand through Emma’s hair teasingly.

“Sweetheart, it _is_ morning,” he pointed out.  “It’s nearly eleven.”

Emma leaned up and blinked into the dark room in confusion.

“Do you just not own a window-,” she began before Steve pressed a button on his side table.  The entire wall of the room moved open, spilling bright sunlight onto the lovers. 

Emma rolled back under the covers, nudging her way under Steve’s arm to block out the light. 

He flipped her onto her back and gave her a soft kiss, his hand resting under her chin. 

“Good _morning_ ,” he softly sang.  Emma felt her cheeks burning at the sign of affection, the memories of the night before crashing around her.

They sat like that a moment longer, drinking in the silence and the calm of the morning. 

“Steve…” Nat’s voice approached the bedroom and soon enough the redhead was in the doorway, to the mortification of the pair in bed.   They both grabbed at the blankets, trying to pull together a semblance of decency.  “We have a problem." 

“That couldn’t wait until-,” Steve was flustered and resorted to throwing a pillow at the assassin.  She knocked it aside, her gaze intense.

“Zemo and Jordan have just been spotted in Hong Kong,” she reported.  “They were leaving an infamous weapon den, but that’s all I got from my informant.  I’d recommend you both putting pants on and meeting the rest of the team in the conference room.”

Natasha took one last look at the dazed couple before parting the room for their privacy.

“Subtle,” Emma muttered.  Steve snorted in agreement and threw back the covers to Emma’s dismay. 

“It’s a never ending battle,” he yawned stretching his arms over his head and sending a sleepy grin toward his companion.  Emma leapt forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek before stealing a pair of his sweat pants and a tee shirt.  “That’s how it’s gunna be huh?”

Emma smirked, lifting the shirt to her nose and inhaling deeply. 

“Well, we _are_ crunched for time,” she reasoned.  “And I love the way you smell.  It’s a win-win.”

“Only if I can take it off later,” Steve stood over Emma a split second before lifting her onto her toes and kissing her.  “You have to keep it fair.”  He gave a small nip at her neck before Emma was forced to push him away for her own self-control. 

“We have a _meeting_ ,” she reminded him.  She pointed to the dresser and he begrudgingly pulled out a pair of jeans and a shirt.  When he was finished, the duo hurried to the other side of the floor where the rest of the team had not-so-patiently waited.

“Lord did you get another session in?” Tony glanced at his watch for effect, mock-irritation on his face. 

“What’s the status on Zemo?” Steve ignored the comment and went straight to Captain-mode.  Emma silently slipped into a seat next to Wanda, waiting for further instruction.

“We have eyes in Hong Kong right now,” Natasha reported.  The room darkened and a video clip appeared at the center of the table.  Jordan and Zemo were waiting by a bus stop, the former glancing over his shoulder and pointing to something in the distance. 

A third man joined the pair and the video cut off.

“Unsurprisingly, someone caught on that we were watching and that’s all we have,” she allowed a defeated sigh. 

“Any idea who the third man is?” Sam questioned from the back of the room.

“The third man is the second-in-command of a Chinese tech company,” Tony supplied.  He waved a hand at the hologram and a full profile of the man appeared.   “He’s been working with some shady characters for some side-money in the last six months.”

“And where exactly are Jordan and Zemo getting money?” Clint arched a brow.  “I can’t be the only one wondering it.”

“That’s where things are getting sticky,” Tony brought up a few pages of invoices.  Each had a US Department of Justice seal across the top.  “Secretary Ross and some of the feds are working outside of SHIELD.  They’re considering SHIELD an NGO that has about the judicial power of a citizen’s arrest.  Mind you, the president has reinstated SHIELD so they’re free to do all of the arresting they want.”

“And where do the Avengers lie?” Wanda piped up, studying the invoices with a steady gaze.  It shifted from Natasha to Tony while she waited for a response.  

“This is off the books, on the books,” Tony murmured.  “If you are all up for it.  SHIELD has us authorized, but the executive branch of our government is split.”

“As is the rest of the world,” Steve murmured, his first vocalized thought since the briefing began. 

“So you have no idea?” Peter clarified.  His wide eyed gaze shot between the members of the team that sat around the table.  “We could be arrested the minute we walk out the door?" 

“Or not,” Scott supplied, his voice cracked when he tried to force optimism.

“I’ve been promised coverage from Fury and Coulson,” Natasha supplied.  “They’re busy dealing with the politicians and we’re being urged to intervene on Zemo and Miller." 

“Which brings us to our next point,” Tony snapped his fingers and the lights in the room re-ignited.  “T’Challa has offered to accompany us to assist with Jordan, however, I cannot make any promises with regard to his safety.”

Tony’s brown eyes settled on Emma now, and slowly the rest of the room looked to the author for a reaction.

She let out a sigh and frowned.

“We do what we need to do,” she finally relented.  She could see Steve stiffen in the corner at the comment.  He’d been in a similar position not even a year ago, but Emma truly believed that Jordan barely had a chance of rehabilitation.  He wasn’t Bucky.  He didn’t have the connections Bucky and Steve had.  He was just a punk kid from Detroit who got in with the wrong crowds at a young and impressionable age. 

He was as malicious and warped as Zemo; and they needed to be stopped.

“All right,” Tony’s gaze was still fixed on Emma when he gave a curt nod dismissing the team.  “Cap and I will discuss assignments, you guys get cleaned up.  We leave in 4 hours.”

Emma was among the last to leave.  She lingered a moment to send Steve a supportive smile before Clint ushered her out into the hallway.

“T’Challa is bringing in Bucky,” Natasha pulled Emma and Clint aside after the members of the groups dispersed throughout the tower.  She kept her voice low and her eyes scanned the area around them for anyone listening. “He thinks that Barnes might be able to talk some sense into Jordan.  I think it’s a terrible idea.”

“Does Tony know?” Clint asked, his expression cringing at the thought.  “I don’t think we can afford to have Iron Man distracted.”

“ _His majesty_ will be informing everyone when we’re _en route_ ,” she replied dryly.  “Might wanna give your boytoy a heads up.” She nodded toward Emma before she parted, Clint at her side.  They whispered amongst each other until they were out of earshot.  

Well this was going to be a disaster, Emma decided in that moment.  She gave Steve a small wave when he glanced through the glass in her direction before she scampered away. 

She found herself in her apartment shortly after.  She peeled off Steve’s clothes and folded them neatly onto her bed before she slipped into the shower.

With the hot water bearing down on her shoulders, Emma was able to finally clear her mind and digest the information she’d been given. 

If they were bringing Bucky in, there was chance of hope for Jordan’s rehabilitation, right? 

The former assassin had to be cured if T’Challa felt confident enough to reintroduce him into the world… Even if there were some residual psychological scarring- he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone on Zemo’s orders. 

Maybe Bucky knew how to work Jordan’s mind and that was why he was being brought in. 

Emma did kind of agree with Clint that it may be bad timing on the king’s part to bring Bucky into the mission without giving Tony a total head’s up, but knowing the billionaire’s stubbornness, it made a little sense.  There wasn’t an easy way to go about this.

She rinsed her hair clean and flipped the water off in the shower, allowing the steam to completely fill the small room.  Once she’d toweled off, she methodically braided her hair and tucked it back, ready for combat. 

That was, assuming, she got the go-ahead. 

Emma pulled a bathrobe over her shoulders before exiting the bathroom and nearly screamed in surprise when Steve was waiting on the edge of her bed, a small tablet in his lap. 

“Already breaking promises?” he teased with a nod at the pile of clothes next to him. 

“Just a little distracted,” she replied, plopping down on the bed and falling backward, her eyes focused on the ceiling.  “Did you get the mission specs worked out?”

“That’s actually why I’m here,” he replied, passing the tablet onto her stomach.  Emma shot up and scrolled through the assignments. 

“I’m with Clint and Sam,” she realized, her brows rising.  “ _Gamma squad_.”

“Surveillance and back-up if needed,” he clarified.  “Wanda, Peter and Nat are working Beta while Tony, T'Challa, and I are the first in.  Make sure you review all the details before we go.”

He started to get up but Emma pulled him back down onto the bed, rolling on top of him with a smirk.

“But what if my soldier never returns?” she teased in a playful voice, mocking the house-wives of the 1940s.  “How _ever_ will I remember him?”

Something sparked in those dazzling blue eyes and he pulled her closer to his chest, his lips crashing over hers.

“I have a few ideas…”

* * *

“Looking sharp,” Sam complimented Emma after Natasha and Wanda helped her into her newly crafted combat gear.  She was idly twirling a collapsible bo staff when he passed by.  With a flick of her wrist, it snapped shut and she hooked it to her back. 

“Thanks, it’s new,” she grinned before feeling a soft tug on the end of her braid. 

“Don’t show off too much, you’ll make him jealous,” Steve teased over her shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t dare hurt Sam’s feelings, right Sam?” she looked to her squad partner and he gave an eye roll. 

“ _Please_ , like I’d be jealous of a stick,” he snorted, adjusting a few things on his wing pack before loading into the jet. 

“We’re wheels up in five,” Clint shouted to the lingering members of the team in the hangar.

“So you’re good with everything that’s going to be happening,” Emma asked quietly, her eyes tracking Tony over Steve’s shoulder.  “You know, the things that will be happening in Hong Kong.”

She’d brought up the subject after their _intimate relations_ and while she could see Steve was excited about the prospect of fighting alongside his friend again, the same hesitation that everyone felt was also there. 

“As long as no one does anything stupid and _you_ stay safe,” he repeated the same words he’d told her before.  He pressed a kiss into her forehead before the pair boarded the jet.  

“So I’ve been thinking codenames,” Peter chimed up after the group had gone into the air.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked over a chuckle.  Natasha looked up from the pistol she'd been adjusting.

“Well like, I’m Spiderman, you’re Falcon, we have Iron Man, Captain America… shouldn’t we make Emma’s first official day in the field special?” 

“Salinger!” Tony shouted from the front of the plane.

“What about Hemingway?  He was kind of the original recluse,” Clint suggested with a proud nod from the goateed genius. 

“I like Recluse,” Wanda spoke up.  “Like Brown Recluse.  Quiet… but deadly.”

Emma felt her cheeks redden at the name. 

“I can twirl a stick and maybe hurt a few people, if anything I’m like the equivalent of a SHIELD secretary,” she tried to reason with the team but Natasha interrupted her. 

“You were trained in SHIELD tactics but you’re a member of this team now,” she gave Emma a rare, warm, smile.  “And considering I did most of your training; I think Recluse is perfect.”

“More spiders, awesome,” Peter murmured in excitement.  “We’ll have to change the name of the team soon.  The exterminators or something.”

“That’d be bad for PR kid, come on,” Tony retorted before the comm link to the jet began to ping.  “Look it’s Catman.  Did anyone send the briefing his way?” he questioned absently before opening the line and chatting with T’Challa. 

Natasha, Steve and Emma shared a worried expression amongst each other while Clint did his best to keep his attention completely focused on the jet controls. 

“Excuse me, _what_?”

* * *

 


	23. No Church in the Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! We're moving along! Probably only another chapter or so before this gets wrapped up. 
> 
> That being said? Have you had a chance to check out my new BuckyxOC story?

* * *

_**"Human beings in a mob** _   
_**What's a mob to a king?** _   
_**What's a king to a god?** _   
_**What's a god to a non-believer?** _   
_**Who don't believe in anything?"** _

**-Kanye West, JAY-Z _(No Church in the Wild)_**

 

* * *

 

“It _had_ to be you,” Sam groaned after Bucky climbed onto the rooftop to join Gamma in surveillance.  Emma glanced up at the commotion for an instant, before earning a smack in the shoulder from Clint.

“Never get distracted kid, could mean life or death,” he warned.  Emma bit back an apology and continued viewing through her binoculars. 

Steve, T’Challa and Tony still lingered on the sidewalk near the entrance to the weapon den.  There had barely been any movement since they set up base across the street.  Any moment now the SHIELD informant was supposed to meet with the trio.

“A little too quiet for my liking,” Natasha voiced through the comm.  Her, Peter and Wanda were positioned strategically throughout the street, waiting to intervene if things went to hell. 

“Agent Mathews does have a habit of making people wait,” Clint reminded his partner pointedly.  “He’s probably circled the block a dozen times to make sure it isn’t some type of ambush.”

“To be fair, it kind of is,” Sam piped up.  He had been running Redwing around the last few blocks, scanning for any abnormalities.  “I’m seeing a kind of shady figure about a block over, brown jacket and hood.”

Emma shifted her vantage to the street corner but saw nothing amongst the shadows before rolling the lens toward Steve.

“You really do get distracted easily,” a voice commented from Emma’s side.  She lowered her binoculars and looked over to Bucky, who’d positioned himself next to her with a sniper rifle.  She opened her mouth to retort but Clint had already kicked her in the back of the calf.

“She’s _new_ ,” Clint replied dryly.  “And due to be replaced if she doesn’t keep her eyes on _Stark_.” 

“I don’t think you get to make that call,” Natasha lightly chided him through the comm.  The team fell silent when movement was detected down the road.  “I’m seeing Mathews, but he brought a friend.”

“It’s Wang,” Stark’s voice filled Emma’s ear and the group watched while the meeting commenced below.   The weapon’s dealer glanced over his shoulder in a panic when he saw the trio of Avengers.  Mathews pushed him forward and after a brief introduction, they went into the designated safe house. 

“That was exciting,” Peter complained quietly.  The conversation through Alpha’s comm was too soft, so the team was left waiting for a report from the Alpha squad. 

“I’m going to circle the block,” Sam announced before hopping off of the rooftop.  “I’ll let you know if Wang has any people skulking about.”

“Sounds good,” Clint confirmed and nudged Emma in the side. 

“I’m watching the door!” she exclaimed before the archer let out a laugh.  She shot her friend a glare, lowering the binoculars a third time.  She could hear Bucky let out a small chuckle next to her. 

“Getting a little feisty are we?” Clint teased, ruffling the top of Emma’s hair.  The brunette let out a sigh and leaned forward on the rooftop’s edge.  “The key is using all of your senses to keep track of everything.  Beta would be the best bet for reinforcements if anything were to happen to Alpha right now.  Then we would jump in for a surprise third wave.”

Emma gave a nod and continued watching the darkened safe house without visual equipment.  A stake-out was incredibly different than a raid of a Hydra facility.  It was significantly organized, and went by significantly slower. 

“It’ll be second nature in no time,” Bucky commented quietly.  “It kind of has to be in this business.”

“Thanks,” Emma murmured to Steve’s old friend.  “Guess it doesn’t help I kind of stumbled into all of this.”

A smile etched its way across his features.  He looked better than the last time Emma had watched Steve talking to him.  He looked rested, and _relieved_.

“I don’t think anyone willingly signs up for this,” he shrugged and checked his visual on his gun.  “Except Wilson, but he’s a _special_ case.”

“We can _all_ hear you,” the winged Avenger snapped back before Bucky continued. 

“I’m not lying,” the brunette retorted back, adjusting his gun’s sight slightly.  Emma leaned against the brick barrier off of the roof and glanced behind the group for an instant, catching a movement on the adjacent rooftop. 

“Sam, the building diagonal to Gamma.  I saw movement, where are you?”  Emma finally was able to contribute to the mission.  Both agents next to her jumped into action and began to scan the rooftops.

“Over Alpha, I’ll get Redwing on it,” Sam reported back.  The small drone shot over the trio and began scanning for life signs.  “I’m not seeing anything.  You sure it wasn’t a plastic bag or anything-?”

Emma was positive that it wasn’t a plastic bag.  Primarily because whoever it was tossed a slew of grenades at the heroes and disappeared into the shadows. 

Everyone responded at once, the second nature of the job kicking into overdrive. 

Bucky grabbed Emma by the back of her collar and dragged her behind a nearby AC unit before she could cover Clint from the debris.  He tucked the smaller author under his arm while he scanned the rooftop for threats. 

Emma, meanwhile, was trying to see her third team member through the smoke. 

“In case anyone missed it, we’re under attack,” Clint grumbled through the comm. 

An explosion sounded from the second floor of the safe house and Emma grabbed for her staff.  With a quick flip of her wrist, the metal device was activated and she sent a nod to Bucky. 

“Cover me,” she shouted over the chaos and slid toward the fire escape behind the pair.  She dropped herself a level at a time before rolling onto the pavement below.  She could hear Bucky’s steps a few feet behind her while they charged toward Alpha. 

“Anyone have visual on the assailant?” Wanda questioned over the shouting and gunshots. 

“I’m sure we will soon,” Sam grunted.  “I’ve got Clint.  Where’s everyone’s position?”

“Focusing on Alpha,” Natasha’s response came through heavy breaths.  “And I found our friend.”  

“Nat, what’s your location?” Clint jumped onto the line.  Emma and Bucky, meanwhile, waited behind a parked SUV for an opportunity to move into the safe house.  So far, none of the members of Alpha had made it out of the smoking building. 

“I’ve got Widow,” Peter responded quickly.  From the corner of her vision, Emma could see the swinging Avenger jump onto the street. 

“Alpha?  Do you read?” Emma tried into the comm.  Everyone waited in silence for a response, but was met with silence.  “We need to get in there.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bucky replied with a frown.  “I know for a fact they can handle their own and with your lack of training...”

“They’d be out by now,” Emma insisted.  She didn’t voice it, but something in the pit of her stomach told her that something terrible had happened.  “C’mon, you know Steve even better than I do." 

A few more explosions sounded around the pair and they could hear the team scrambling through the comm link.

“Widow is down,” Pete announced.  “I don’t know where Witch or Hawkeye are located." 

“Falcon is moving in for reinforcements,” Clint sounded off.  “He lost his comm during a fight.  Recluse, Soldier?”

“We’re the only ones,” she pressed urgently, glancing over the SUV toward a group of masked men that convened on the pair.  Before Bucky could respond, the author turned agent slid across the SUVs surface and began her attack. 

“We’re moving in on the safe house for Alpha,” Bucky reluctantly replied. 

Five targets, she judged quickly, running through the mental list that Natasha and Clint had practically beaten into her head. 

Reliance on weaponry, lack of hand to hand knowledge.  Disarm and engage.  Just like practice.

Emma swung her staff toward the jugular of the closest man, activating the modified ‘spider bites’ in the bo staff.  He dropped instantly, his hands trying to scramble for the staff and she used the momentum to propel onto the next man’s waist. 

Bucky had finally jumped in at this point, elbow moving swiftly and disarming the men in seconds.  By the time Emma had taken down the second man with a quick maneuver of her arms, he’d taken care of the other three.

“I knew you’d eventually listen to reason,” Emma chided while they jogged over.  She tried the front door first, but it wouldn’t budge no matter how much strength she pushed against it.  “Locked out.  That’s a little rude.” 

“Here, let _me_ try knocking,” Bucky took his left side and rammed it against the door’s edges.  With him, it barely looked like he put an effort in.  The door caved and went flying inwardly. 

“Ahh,” Emma looked at her impromptu partner with wide eyes.  “That was literally the most impressive and terrifying thing I’ve seen all week.” 

“I’m willing to bet it’s about to be a little more interesting,” he peered inside the darkened house and tried to survey through the smoke that had gathered on the first level.  “Their meeting was supposed to stay on the first floor.”

Emma was behind him, blocking out the smoke with her glove.  It wasn’t like Steve to stray from a plan, and she was confident that T’Challa would side with the super soldier if Tony tried to alter anything. 

“I’m not seeing anything,” Emma announced after pulling out a flashlight and sweeping the floor.  She rounded a corner and was nearly taken by surprise when Wang shoved a handgun toward her head.  When she disarmed the weapons dealer, she was suddenly thankful for the many times Clint and Natasha repeated the basics at the end of their lessons.

Emma brought her knee up and grabbed Wang by the back of the head, with a smooth movement she brought his face down and immediately rendered him unconscious. 

“Found Wang,” she shouted toward Bucky.  She could hear his footsteps and saw Mathews’ unconscious body drop to the floor before she saw Bucky. 

“Found Mathews,” he stated.  “I’m going upstairs, check if there’s a basement and wait for me to get back before we investigate it.”

Emma knew better than to verbally let him know that she had absolutely no intention of following his orders- instead offering a quick nod and grabbing Wang’s handgun off the floor. 

With Bucky out of her eye line, she sprinted toward the back of the house- listening to the conversation outside with the rest of Gamma and Beta. 

“Spiderboy took a bullet in the leg,” Sam reported.  “Wanda and I are taking care of the last few men.  What’s your status Clint?” 

“I’ve got Nat, she bumped her head, but is insisting she’s good to keep fighting,” the archer shot back.  “Any news on Alpha?” 

Before Emma could reply, Bucky had jumped on.

“Nothing but Wang and Matthews,” he replied back.  Emma could hear the slightest pressure from his footfalls above her.  While she scanned around the house for any sign of a basement, a hand reached out and grasped at her ankle.  Preparing to shoot whoever it was, Emma was surprised to find Steve on the ground, his leather jacket discarded and his tee shirt torn.  He held a finger to his mouth and motioned above his head. 

Emma dropped to the ground and whispered into the comm.

“Cap’s safe.” 

There was a collective sigh of relief but it was Bucky who detected the hesitation in her voice.

“Is he unharmed?” he questioned, his voice dropping.

Emma looked at Steve and he gave her a small smile before crawling closer to the ear that didn’t carry the comm piece.

“At least eight hostiles in the house,” he murmured, “-not including Wang and Matthews.”

Emma repeated the information in a whisper to the rest of the team, after realizing that Steve had lost his comm piece and shield.

“There’s a bit of a ruckus outside too,” Emma informed him.  “No one is severely injured, but it was a set up.”

“No kidding,” Steve mumbled and nodded over Emma’s shoulder toward movement in the smoke.  Two pairs of boots, walking carefully through the fog.  She passed off the handgun she’d stolen from Wang and slid her bo staff off of her back.

It was an instant, but the duo took down the threats without so much as a shout from them.  Emma swept one down with a leg, and the other with her staff, while Steve knocked them unconscious with a single smooth movement into the corner of the wall.

“Six left,” Emma informed her teammates.  A barrage of gunshots sounded above the duo and they froze, waiting for information from Bucky before engaging.  

“Four,” he replied calmly.  “I found T’Challa.  Stark is missing.”

“How many floors are there?” Emma asked Steve and he paused. 

“Basement, first and second,” he replied, already hurrying toward the back of the house.  He was careful with each movement, scanning corners and making sure the area was clear before proceeding. 

Steve led the way, Emma watching his back and listening to the rest of the team prep for an evac.  T’Challa was apparently fine, aside from some minor burns as a result of the explosion.  Steve had looked better, but out of the trio, Emma was willing to bet he looked the best. 

The super soldier held up a hand and kept Emma back, tucked behind a corner. 

“Zemo,” Steve merely stated.  Emma pulled herself into the shadows.  If Zemo thought Steve was alone, she could jump in for reinforcements. 

“Captain,” the man replied coolly.  “Did you enjoy my show?  How’s your girlfriend feeling?”

“Where’s Stark?” Emma knew that the man was in no mood for Zemo’s games.  It’d been months of back and forth, and finally they were at a point where capturing him and Jordan was feasible. 

“He’s safe, for now,” Emma could hear someone take a step forward and a chuckle.  “Assuming you play by my rules.” 

“Like hell I will,” Steve snarled sharply, his tone biting.  Emma nearly flinched at a sudden presence at her shoulder, but before she could react, a hand pressed down reassuringly into her arm. 

_Bucky_. 

“Then I guess you don’t mind killing your friend.”

God.  Emma could almost see the disgusting smirk on Zemo’s face as he said it.  She looked over her shoulder to Bucky and frowned.  When should they intervene?  Was it just Zemo and Steve?  Or were their others that they hadn’t accounted for?

“What do you want?” Steve relented slightly, trying to pull any piece of information out of the villain.  In Emma’s mind, it was like trying to reason with a brick wall- _pointless_.

“I want revenge,” he said it so casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  “I want to see you suffer and I want to watch the Avengers crumble.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Clint’s voice sounded through Emma’s comm.  “Jet is trashed.  Sam, details on the SHIELD safe house?”

“ _Compromised_ ,” Emma could hear Sam’s breathing picking up.  It sounded like he was in the middle of a fight as he spoke. 

“They’re two steps ahead of us,” Nat’s voice was shaken, laced with an unspoken pain from an injury.  “We’re going dark.  Repeat.  We’re going dark.  Indigo, Roulette, Salute, and California unaccounted for, otherwise team is green.”

That was for them, Emma realized. 

Everyone was safe; her, Bucky, Steve and Tony were the only ones missing.  The team would slip away for the time being, though Steve would probably know what the exact terms of ‘going dark’ entailed.

The look Bucky sent her, chilled Emma to the core.  They were alone for the time being. 

Her hands gripped her staff and she bit down on her bottom lip, trying to decide the best course of action.  The only thing that sounded in her head was that Steve was in danger.  He didn’t have his shield, he didn’t have his costume on, he was the most vulnerable of the group.

Before Emma was able to lean back and try to improv a plan with Bucky, the small tinkering of a metal object stumbled down the staircase toward them.  

Emma tried to take a moment to process the object, but it seemed like Bucky knew without even looking what it was.  He tucked her under his arm and rolled into the basement, shoving Steve and Emma toward a secure piece of the foundation before a bright light and an explosion sounded.

Debris flew everywhere.  Dust mixed with the smoke from upstairs, making any visual confirmation of their situation impossible.  Through the chaos, however, Emma could hear Zemo’s laughter from nearby. 

She charged into the darkness before Steve or Bucky could stop her, and she was genuinely surprised when she tackled someone to the ground.  Grabbing at a knife on her hip, she prepared to dig the blade into the sternum of whomever she’d grabbed, but paused when she saw a glowing object on the person’s wrist.

She definitely knew that insignia. 

“I found Stark!” she shouted, trying to quell the excitement out of her voice.  They just needed to get out of the safe house and to a more secure location and everyone would be fine. 

Though in hindsight, Emma realized at the sounds of guns being prepped, perhaps announcing her position into the shadows wasn’t the wisest idea.

* * *

Tony Stark had the worst headache of his life.

The billionaire had been shot, maimed, knocked unconscious and had taken a number of questionable drugs in his life; but nothing compared to the surge of pain in his head.

His vision was the first thing that came back.  He was in a damp room, dimly lit and laying on the floor.  Only a small piece of clothing, Emma’s uniform jacket he realized, separated his face from concrete floor. 

He rolled on his back, his hearing slowly returning.  Water was dripping from the top of the cell and someone was breathing softly in the corner.

Tony sat up, trying to ignore the feeling of vertigo that overcame him when he moved.  Everything seemed to still be in one piece.  He had his legs, his arms, and his body.  Aside from a few cuts and bruises and the pain from the syringe Wang jabbed into him, he was in pretty decent shape. 

Miller was hunched up against the corner of the cell, her head dropped forward into her chest, only stirring awake when Tony’s shoe scrapped across the surface of the concrete. 

The kid looked a little roughed up.  Her lip was split and the ends of her clothes suggested singeing.  Bruises laced around her neck and as she awoke, she stretched; wincing at a pain in her shoulder and side. 

“I was beginning to worry I’d have to write your obituary,” she tried to joke, pulling her legs to her chest after a shiver shot through her.  Tony passed off the jacket to her uniform and she took it gratefully.

“What the hell happened?” he finally asked, sending a look around the crowded space.  The cell was nothing more than a glorified hole.  There was a single lightbulb and a metal door that separated the pair from freedom. 

“It was trap,” she frowned at the ground.  “Wang and Matthews set you all up.  We were ambushed outside but Bucky and I got into the safe house.  T’Challa and the other’s got away and are laying low until… well I’m not entirely sure until when.  I got separated from Steve and Bucky when I found you.  Which, now thinking about it, probably was a trap as well since Zemo had you hoisted up,” she paused in thought.  “At least I didn’t kill you.” 

She shrugged the last bit off as an afterthought; and despite her casual explanation, Tony could clearly see the author’s hands shaking.

He nodded at the information and looked to the door.

“So how did we end up here?”

Emma rolled her lip between her teeth nervously and sighed. 

“Honestly, I have no idea,” she admitted.  “I dragged you to a corner, shots were fired and everything was going to hell.  Steve was trying to say something but I couldn’t hear and next thing I know; we were both dumped in here.”

“So we’re bait?” he guessed, a hint of amusement in his tone. 

“That’s my guess,” Emma leaned back into the wall and pressed her head back into the surface.  “Zemo wanted Steve to do something for him.  I don’t know what it is, but I’m willing to guess we get the short end of the stick if he doesn’t listen.”

Tony gave a snort.  Cap would do everything in his power to make sure Tony and Emma got out of this alive.  Hell, one of the reasons Steve didn’t want to bring Emma along was to avoid this exact situation.   Though, Tony reasoned that the extra manpower would be beneficial and Steve eventually relented.

And after noting his surroundings and doing a mental checklist of his and Emma’s injuries, Tony still maintained that he was right.  Two heads were better than one.

Emma was picking at the burnt ends of her braid when Tony crawled over and started rummaging through her hair. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” she pulled away and swatted at his hands.  “-the hell are you doing!?”

“Bobby pins,” he merely replied and pulled two of the small metal accessories out of his friend’s hair.  “I have a plan, but I need some tools to work with, Miller.”

The author looked at him like he had finally lost it, and perhaps he had.  Surely the darkened space would provide a plethora of nightmares for him in weeks to come, but he also had a strong policy of trying not to die. 

“You have your gloves still?” he asked, his fingers snapping impatiently at the woman while she scrambled for her pockets.  She passed the pair up, her brows still knitted in confusion while Tony slipped the small gloves on and began to pull apart the lightbulb socket. 

He knew Miller exemplified the furthest thing from grace, so he made sure to line her gloves with non-conducting liners, just in case her hands slipped while she twirled her glorified stick around.  It was a small courtesy that he now realized would probably save their asses while he worked on the live electrical fixture above them. 

Assuming the bulb was like any other lightbulb in the history of fixtures, he’d have a little bit of wiring to work with.  And assuming he had wiring, he had power.   And if he had power, he had a means of crafting a make-shift soldering tool. 

And well if he had that... 

“You’re gonna bust us out,” Emma realized, piecing two and two together.  “Using a _lightbulb_.  I swear, if this works I’ll never doubt your technical genius again.”

Tony choked back a laugh and moved toward the door, live wire sparking in his hands.  He had to move quickly, but if he focused on the hinges and maybe slipped through the crack…

It worked better than expected.  The wires were hot enough to slip through the hinges and sparking enough to short-circuit the lock.  The door came tumbling into the cell and Emma froze in surprise, still sitting on the ground.

“First rule,” Tony motioned for her to exit the cell and waited until they were in the hallway before proceeding.  “ _Never_ , under estimate the level of my genius.’

 

* * *

 


	24. Landslide

 

**"And I saw my reflection on the snow covered hills, 'til the landslide brought me down.**

**Oh mirror in the sky, what is love?  Can a child within my heart rise above?**

**Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?  Can I handle all seasons of my life?**

**Well I've been scared of changin' 'cause I've built my life around you.**

**But time makes you bolder, even children get older and I'm gettin' older too."**

**_Landslide_ \- Fleetwood Mac**

 

* * *

 

Tony was pretty impressed with how well Emma handled herself against the armed men who snarled sexual insults in her direction.  The brunette’s entire demeanor changed the moment they stepped out of the cell and she went after the guards with everything she had. 

There were a few tricks that he was positive she’d learned from Natasha, but occasionally she mixed Nat’s style with a strange combination of Steve and Clint.  Truly, Emma Miller was the embodiment of teamwork.

“Tony!  Behind you!” she shouted, losing focus long enough to allow one of the men to grab her from behind.  She struggled against his grasp while Tony whirled around and planted a few well-placed kicks in the gut of a single security officer.  The officer hit the ground hard, and Tony made sure he was down with a stomp.

The man holding Emma was much larger than the struggling, lithe, author.  He wrapped an arm around her neck and held a handgun to her temple. 

“Stand down or we get to see if her brains are as pretty as her face.”  He grinned at her before running his tongue down the length of her cheek. 

Emma let out a snarl of disgust, to which the man shoved a boot into the back of her knees.  He tightened his grip around the young woman’s neck and Tony could see a terrifying color of purple rise to his friend’s cheeks.

And Tony was standing there, useless without his suit.  He sized the man up and decided that the options he had were all awful.

“Let her go,” he demanded sharply, and the man laughed, instead pointing the weapon at Tony’s chest.

“Or what, little man?” 

A glint of silver behind the man sparked a glimmer of hope in Tony’s chest.  Emma’s eyes were shutting and she was gasping for air.  When her body fell limp, a bullet flew through the back of the guard’s head. 

He crumpled, dropping Emma to the ground.  Tony and Bucky Barnes were at the heroine’s side in seconds, the billionaire lifting the young woman’s head and shaking her shoulders.

“Kid, come one,” he urged, but there was no movement.

“I’ve got a faint pulse,” Bucky reported, worry etched through his features.  Tony had to bite back a comment of anger.  How dare the assassin pretend he cared about this woman?  He didn’t have the history she shared with the rest of the team, they’d done one stupid mission together and still managed to get caught. 

Tony listened at the woman’s chest before he shook his head and started compressions.  He was not letting this stubborn, pain in the ass die that easily. 

Her eyes shot open after a few moments and she choked a gasp.  Her brown eyes shot at the scene and while she was initially defensive, she calmed at the sight of the two men kneeling next to her.

“Where’s Steve?” was the first question out of her, her gaze locking on Bucky.  “Is he ok?”

“I’m pretty sure you were dead for a minute there, and your first thought is of Spangles?” Tony teased lightly, masking the tone of relief that flowed through his sarcasm.

“He asked the same thing when he woke up,” Bucky noted quietly.  “Zemo took him somewhere.  He hit him with some type of taser or something and Steve could barely move.”

Tony consciously ignored Emma’s shiver at the mention of the vague weapon. 

“We need to find him,” she decided, standing up quickly.  She gave a small sway and shrugged off Tony and Bucky’s attempts to help her forward.  “Does anyone know how to get ahold of the rest of the team?”  Bucky passed her a few weapons from the downed soldiers and Tony dug through one of the men’s pockets.  He located a small radio and began to fidget with it, his brows etched in concentration. 

“I might be able to pull some magic on this badboy,” he muttered after popping the back off of the plastic device.  “Assuming they’re within a few miles of our location.  Which could be anywhere, to be honest.”’

“We’re on the outskirts of Hong Kong,” Bucky replied hesitantly, his blue gaze uncertain of the goateed man.  “A hidden warehouse in a small fishing village.” 

“What on earth could Zemo be planning?” Emma voiced out loud, snapping her ammo cartridge into place.  “I swear this guy is making things up as he goes.”

“What else?” Tony murmured, he allowed a long sigh.  “He wants to break up the Avengers.”

* * *

Zemo knew that Steve Rogers was the key to the Avengers.  He was their leader, fearless and proud.  He knew he had weaknesses, ranging from the difficult Miller girl to the billionaire.  And he also knew that harmony between all the weaknesses in his life were impossible. 

The girl only cared for Steve’s safety, no matter the personal risk to herself. 

The assassin cared for redemption and the friendship of his blonde haired friend, no matter the cost.

The genius cared for those around him, despite his hard exterior.  He’d die before he saw those he considered family in pain. 

Fortunately for Zemo, that included Rogers and the Miller girl.  Barnes wouldn’t be as easy to toy with until Steve was in danger.  Miller would recklessly go after anything that involved her brother or Rogers, and Stark would feel obligated for her safety. 

And then everything would collapse and the super soldier bound to a re-enforced concrete post would be forced to watch it all. 

It’d be even better if the others could join in on the fun. 

But no, tonight’s feature presentation involved those Steven Grant Rogers held dearest. 

Helmut Zemo grinned at the screen in front of him, the trio of heroes were still gathered in the hallway, trying to decide a course of action. 

It was time to play a game.

He pressed a button and the hallway began to rumble, causing debris from the ceiling of the warehouse to collapse on the ground. 

Barnes, in an unexpected move, grabbed Miller and rolled to safety.  Stark was effectively sealed off from the duo, and the game had started.

* * *

“Tony!” Emma tried to dig at the pile of rubble, slicing her hand on a piece of protruding metal.  She cursed under her breath and Bucky grabbed at her hand, immediately assessing the damage.  She pulled away and shot him a glare.

“I’m fine,” she snapped sharply.  “Tony could be hurt.  We need to get to him.”

Bucky was quiet, watching the woman with a careful gaze as she tried at the rubble pile again. 

Emma ignored the blood at was seeping down her arm as she dug.  It was like every piece of debris was replaced by another, she’d made no progress at the task.  Eventually Bucky pulled her away roughly. 

“ _Enough_ , there are more pressing matters to focus on,” he stated firmly.  “The ceiling was rigged.  Someone’s messing with us.”

“And if Tony’s dead?”

“I like to think he’s too proud to die that easily,” Bucky merely commented before starting down the hall.  “Do you want to save Steve or not?" 

“I want to save _everyone_ ,” Emma protested.  “I’m not going to let _anyone_ die today." 

Bucky muttered something under his breath before starting down the hallway.  He expected Emma to follow him, and after a moment of hesitation, she did just that. 

They moved in a tense silence before an explosion threw them down separate pathways.  A gate slammed closed, blocking Emma from joining Bucky, and preventing Bucky from protecting her. 

She saw him quickly recover and hurry over, scanning her over for injuries. 

“Are you injured?” he asked, breathing in relief when she confirmed her physical wellbeing. 

“Are you really that worried about Rogers’ mental stability that you’d risk life and limb for her?” a male voice commented from the end of the hall Emma was trapped in.  Emma knew that voice. 

Emma had known that voice her whole life.

“ _Jordan_ ,” she whispered, barely registering when Bucky tensed behind her.  They both knew she was going to do something stupid and there was no stopping it.  Emma took a few slow steps toward her younger brother.

“Incredibly predictable, Emma,” he sighed before firing a shot at the young woman’s feet.  She leapt back, nearly crashing into the grated blockade.  Bucky shook the door in frustration. 

“Stay focused Miller,” he snapped at the woman while he sized the young man across from him.  He raised his weapon to fire but Emma immediately stepped in the way.

“You can’t just kill him,” she pleaded desperately.  Even she was a little surprised at the desperation in her tone.  For someone so comfortable with ending his life a few hours previously, seeing him in the flesh had her singing a different tune. 

“I can show you to Steve,” Jordan offered with a chuckle.  “Assuming you’re willing to leave your buddy behind.  Can’t have you losing focus on the real priority, right?”

God, it was such an obvious trap.  Emma knew it.  Bucky knew it.  Jordan knew it.  But she had nowhere else to go but forward and without Bucky doting on her for the sake of his best friend, he could focus on getting Steve to safety. 

“If you die, I’ll kill you,” she hissed at Bucky.  “One of us has to get out of this alive for Steve’s sake.  Promise me you’ll find him.”

“You are not going anywhere,” Bucky began to threaten but Emma gave his gloved hand a squeeze.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she forced a smile and started down the hall with the waiting Jordan Miller.  Siblings back together again- one willing to lay down her life, and the other willing to take it from her.

* * *

 

Tony grunted once the chaos had settled.  Emma and Barnes were nowhere to be seen.  He surmised the large pile of debris blocking one of the hallways had something to do with that. 

He kicked a nearby piece of drywall in frustration.  Emma was _alone_ with that psychopath.  Even though the brunette assassin seemed concerned about Miller’s wellbeing, Tony knew it was only because of Steve.   If Steve was gone, Emma would be nothing in his eyes. 

But Tony actually cared for the young woman like an older brother.  She was one of the few members of the Avengers that didn’t look at him with pity or concern, because she was one of the few Avengers that’d been through similar trauma. 

Tony was not going to let Zemo win, but in order to make sure his friends lived through this ordeal, he’d have to play into whatever sick game the Sokovian was playing. 

He started down the hall in front of him, his gun trained in front of him, ready to fire if need be. 

He’d find Steve.  He’d kill Zemo.  He’d rescue Emma, and maybe, _reluctantly_ , get Barnes out of harm.  _Maybe_. 

* * *

“Helmut’s been waiting for you,” Jordan commented over Emma’s shoulder.  The tip of the gun he’d taken from her was digging into her back.  “I swear the guy is more obsessed with our family than Reynolds was.  Never understood what you saw in that guy until I saw the bruises.  Then I realized my _fearless_ older sister was actually _afraid_ of him.” 

He gave a scoff at the thought.  “Shame we couldn’t invite him to the party.  Would have been fun to watch.”

Emma swallowed the disgust that rose in her stomach at the thought of Alec’s face.  She clearly could remember his threat so many months previously about him taking her to a base and having _fun_.

“Oh, that strike a nerve?” Jordan noted with amusement.  “Maybe I can have a little fun.  Did he make you beg for mercy, Em?  Maybe he threatened to hurt mom, or dad?” he snickered.  “Or maybe even me?  That’d be a hoot." 

“Jordan stop,” Emma murmured.  “This is ridiculous.  You know better…”

“Did you say that to him too?” Jordan pulled the back of her hair and pressed the woman against the wall, his gun pressed firmly against the bottom of her chin.  “How many scars did he give you?  You seem to wear long sleeves often… Stark even added them to your costume…” he began to roll up the edge of Emma’s sleeve and she jumped at him with a snarl. 

He dug the gun a little more into her face, laughing at her reaction.

“He really fucked you up, huh?  I always thought _I_ was the crazy one.  Maybe I should have dragged you along to Hydra,” he mused the thought briefly before shoving Emma forward toward the end of the hall.  There was a metal door waiting a few feet away from her.  “Your boyfriend is in there. 

It seemed too simple.  It was too easy. 

“What’s your play?” Emma eyed her younger brother with distrust.  “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’ll be fun to watch you suffer like I have,” he replied nonchalantly.  He pulled the door open and threw the brunette author into the darkened room.  She rolled across the damp floor before her eyes adjusted on a kneeling form in the back of the room.  

“ _Steve_ ,” she hurried toward him, her hands working at the rope that bound his hands.  He raised his head slowly, his expression dazed and confused. 

“Emma?” he asked quietly, unsure of himself.  “Is it actually you?”

“I’m going to get you out of here,” she promised, pulling the last binding rope free.  The super soldier flexed his wrists before pulling her into a tight embrace.  “We’re going to need to move quickly-!”

The most excruciating pain Emma had ever felt shot through her body and she crumpled onto the ground with a weak yelp.  Steve tried to jump up, but he wavered.  Something wasn’t right.  He stumbled backward and fell to the ground helplessly.

“Your dear Captain is a bit out of it this evening, must have been something he ate…” Zemo’s voice whispered into Emma’s ear before the pain began again. 

She let out a scream of pain and tried to scramble away, only to earn a boot in her stomach.  She wretched and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to shield her nerves from the burning that pulsed through her. 

“Stop please!  I’m begging you- Zemo!” Steve’s voice was shaking.  Through the haze of tears, she could see him reaching forward, and his arm dropping down weakly.

“Call it a trade,” Zemo pressed the device between Emma’s shoulder blades, the pain intensifying to levels that Emma didn’t even think were possible.  “Emma, would you take his place dear?” 

Emma would have done anything to escape the antagonizing pain, but she’d endure if it meant Steve could go free.

“ _Emilya_ , I don’t think I quite heard you,” he sighed and kicked Emma in the side once again, rolling the brunette onto her back.  “I’ll send him on his way if you’re willing to endure what he will suffer if he stays.”

Emma rolled her head to the side and gave Steve a strained smile. 

“Don’t hurt him,” she whimpered.  “I’ll do anything… please…" 

“Emma, no, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve pleaded, trying to stand up straight but his knees buckled. 

“Looks like my formula hasn’t quiet worn off,” Zemo chuckled and pressed his elbow into Emma’s chest.  “I guess we’ll have to continue with him still in the room.  Pity.”

She let out another scream, her body trembling and shaking under the tiny device.  Zemo laughed and kicked Emma’s body like a ragdoll, ignoring the super soldier’s cries for mercy. 

Finally, Zemo paused and looked at the broken man on the floor. 

“Did you think I was given mercy while my family suffered?  I watched my world crumble, and you will do the same,” he gave Emma another swift kick in the jaw before crossing the room to a small security TV.  On screen were Bucky and Tony, fighting off hordes of guards.  Tony was bloodied, shouting profanities at the men while Bucky tried his best to down what guards he could. 

They’d be overwhelmed soon enough.

Emma allowed her head to fall to the cool ground.  _She’d_ be overwhelmed soon enough.  Zemo would win.  The Avengers wouldn’t even know how to begin to pick up the pieces after Tony and Steve broke. 

She closed her eyes.  Deep down, perhaps she knew Zemo was lying to her about Steve’s safety.  But she’d fight to take whatever pain and punishment the man dealt, if it meant Steve wouldn’t suffer in front of her. 

But then something happened.

The door to the room flew off of its hinges- smoke shooting into the small room.  The group began to cough, choking for a breath of fresh air. 

Through the chaos and noise, Emma saw a pair of glowing, mechanical eyes and a sliver sheen through the smoke. 

It was enough hope to give Emma the motivation to pull herself off of the ground. 

It was enough for her to dive at Zemo, wrestling the device out of his now bloodied hands.

She dug the device into his side, pressing down on the first button she could catch.  He writhed and screeched.  She pressed harder and he wept for mercy.  She pressed until Tony pulled her off of the screaming man shouting that it was enough. 

It wasn’t enough.

Bucky had Steve propped up under his arm.  Tony cuffed Zemo and sent a concerned glance in Emma’s direction, she shook her head and turned to part the room, getting a head start before anyone could call after her.  The aches and pains from their adventure grew stronger with every step. 

Jordan was nowhere to be seen.  That was, until they reached the entrance of the warehouse.

His body was surrounded by a pool of blood.  A self-inflicted gunshot wound through his head. 

But Emma was too numb to feel anything.  She didn’t feel sorrow; she didn’t feel remorse or regret.  She felt like she was staring at the body of a ghost she’d never known. 

Her sides burned.  Her head spun.  Her legs shook with agony.

Tony explained on the jet ride home how he located his suit with Bucky’s help.  They’d saved each other during the brawl.  The security footage had been edited to make it seem worse than it’d been.  Zemo had just wanted to abuse them.

After Tony got his suit back, he’d called for the others and went with Bucky toward the hallway Jordan had taken Emma down.  There’d been a brief confrontation with Jordan, but the young man fled after realizing it was a lost cause. 

The remainder of the flight, no one mentioned Jordan Miller’s name again.

Steve regained his strength about halfway through the trip, with Zemo’s serum wearing off.  He sat on the floor of the jet with Emma’s head in his lap.  He idly played with her hair, humming under his breath while she drifted in and out of consciousness from the pain. 

Natasha had contacted Shield to pick up Zemo before the team left Hong Kong.  They’d confirmed the transfer was successful and left for home without too many parting words, confident that the Chinese base would be sufficient to hold the madman. 

 Ross was also being held accountable for damages done at an overseas prison. 

It seemed like such a simple conclusion for such a devastating day. 

FRIDAY ran diagnostics over Emma and Steve, the super soldier insisting he was fine despite the computer listing off the broken bones throughout his body.  Emma had been through the ringer and back.  Damaged trachea, broken ribs, internal bleeding… the list went on.  Steve continued to soothe her while Natasha did some field first-aid, wiping up blood and sewing up any gaping cuts. 

Tony and Bucky had suffered a few scratches as well, though nothing as severe as what the couple on the ground had gone through.  Tony took care of the superficial wounds, eyeing Bucky while the super soldier examined his sides and metal arm. 

“Something’s caught in there,” Tony commented in a low voice when Bucky’s arm gave a spasm during a check.  “You mind?” he offered, pulling a screw driver out of a nearby compartment. 

The assassin gave a shrug and allowed the genius access to his arm. 

It took a few minutes but eventually Tony was able to pull a piece of debris from between the shelling joints. 

“Good as new,” he tossed the debris and the screw driver to the side and leaned up against the side of the jet, his head resting against the cool surface.

It’d been a long year for everyone and aside from Emma’s occasional curses and Steve’s soothing murmurs, the jet was silent. 

For a few precious hours, it was over.   All of the pain, the anticipation, everything. 

The reality would hit eventually and the scars would have to heal, but for a few precious moments, the team was at a quiet peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! It's seriously been such a pleasure writing this for you guys! 
> 
> Please check out my Bucky/OFC story "Dust to Dust" if you haven't already, and keep a look out for my story, a Tony/OFC based one! 
> 
> You've all been so lovely and it's seriously breaking my heart to tie up Emma and Steve's story. Perhaps I'll do a few oneshots in the future. <3


	25. One Year Later

* * *

 

**I want to write you a song**  
**One that's beautiful as you are sweet**  
**With just a hint of pain**  
**For the feeling that I get when you are gone**  
**I want to write you a song.**

**_-I Want to Write You a Song (One Direction)_ **

 

* * *

It was a beautiful day in Detroit, despite the melting snow that slushed along the streets in lumps of brown.  

The sun was shining, the city was bustling and neighbors waved to one another while Emma and Steve made their way to the cemetery.  

It’d been one year since Jordan died.  Since Zemo was stopped and the truth about Henry had been revealed.  

Alec was still out there- somewhere.  But Emma wasn’t as scared anymore, she was stronger than she’d been before.  

Emma knelt down at her father’s grave first.  Steve initially lingered to give her privacy, but she grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him down with her.  

“Dad,” she reached forward and touched the smooth surface of the grave marker.  “This is Steve Rogers.”

Steve pulled Emma under his arm and offered his free hand to the grave.

“It’s a pleasure sir,” he smiled down at the author.  “You certainly raised an amazing woman.”

“I wish you could be here,” she whispered to the ground.  “It’s been crazy, but you didn’t die in vain.  Henry made sure of that.”

“And so did you,” Steve reminded her lightly.  He turned to the grave and made a face.  “She’s too modest for her own good.”

“I hope you’re with both of the boys,” she sent a long glance at the newer grave markers next to his.  It barely took a handful of years before the Miller plot had filled.  “I miss you.”

She stopped at Henry and Jordan’s graves, whispering a few words that Steve couldn’t make out, before she placed bundles across all of her family’s markers.

They left the hallowed ground in silence, Steve’s gloved hand wrapped tightly around Emma’s.

“Mom’s been happy in New York,” Emma finally spoke up with a small smile.  “She loves Brooklyn.”

“I figured she would,” he chuckled.  “How’s the church bake sale been going?”  

Emma chatted the remainder of the way to their hotel about a snickerdoodle crisis that her mother had resolved with a well prepped bake pan.  

“ _Emma Miller_ ,” Tony Stark’s voice floated across the lobby of the hotel.  “You’re late.”

Emma let out a long groan before Steve kissed her forehead comfortingly.

“Be _strong_ ,” he whispered with a squeeze of her hand.  

“I won’t make any promises,” she murmured, forcing a grin and greeting the billionaire.  “I figured mourning my family would give me a little wiggle room.”

“There’s a fitting that I didn’t find out about until an hour ago,” Pepper appeared with an apologetic grimace in the duo’s direction.  “And Steve, make sure you get everyone to the theater on time.  The towncars will-”

“The towncars will be outside at 2:15pm, plane leaves for New York at 3pm,” he recited.  “I have it under control.  Don’t worry about all of us.  You’ve got more important things to think about.”

“Let what we’re doing with my hair,” Tony chimed in, pulling Emma and Pepper toward the lobby elevator.  Before the doors closed, she sent one last pleading look in Steve’s direction.  The super soldier simply shrugged before she was locked away with Tony for the remainder of the afternoon.

* * *

“I think black,” Natasha held up a dress for Emma to examine.  She shrugged, too engulfed in an email on her laptop to give a serious response.  “Or ivory?”

“Whatever works best,” Emma mumbled, typing a quick message and glancing up.  “Wait is this for you or me?”

“For _Wanda_ ,” Natasha sighed and lifted the device away from Emma’s reach.  “I’m thinking black.”

“Black is perfect,” Emma nodded in agreement, trying to hide her frustration at losing her laptop.  She had a surprise in progress for Steve and she was on a serious time crunch.  

She didn’t have time for dress up.

“And your hair?” Natasha lifted the edges of the author’s ponytail.  

“Whatever Alice wants to do with it,” Emma shrugged the spy off and jumped in excitement when her phone went off.  “Hello?”

“I have it,” Tony’s voice announced.  Emma could almost picture the grin that laced his words.  “I’m in Pepper’s room.”

Natasha couldn’t get another word in before Emma darted out of the room and down the hall.  She didn’t even get a chance to knock; as Tony was already standing in the doorway with a smirk plastered across his features.

“It looks amazing,” he passed a wrapped parcel to the author.  She weighed the object in her hands a moment before tucking it under her arm.

“Of course it is,” Emma swallowed down the childish squeal that threatened to spill over.  

“You’re ridiculous.  Go away before I take it back,” Stark threatened with a light shove in her shoulder.  Emma snorted in laughter and hurried back to her hotel room.  When she returned, she let out a long sigh and dropped down in a nearby chair.  Steve’s surprise was checked off.

Natasha looked at her expectantly, but Emma brushed off the interrogating glance and focused on clothes.

“So Wanda is figured out,” she looked at the piles of dresses scattered around the room.  “What’s next?”

* * *

“I hate these things,” Bucky complained, tugging at his bowtie.  “I feel like I’m being strangled.”

“I’m pretty sure Sam tied it extra tight for you,” Steve leaned over and loosened his friends tie a bit.  Bucky heaved a long breath as the tension relaxed around his neck.  

“I’m going to kill him,” he mumbled, leaning back into the reception chair.  Per Pepper’s instructions, the team got there a little early.  She worried the Avengers would pull attention away from the actors and actresses who would be arriving shortly for the premiere.  

Steve didn’t mind, he wasn’t big on attention.  He just wanted to get through the night and support Emma as much as possible.  

Bucky had been dragged along to keep him company, while the others mulled around the room talking amongst one another or with some of the other early guests.

Emma stressed that she wanted everyone there, and made sure that Pepper had the guest list finalized with her before sending out invitations.  

“I’ve never been to a movie premiere before,” Peter Parker appeared at Steve’s side.  His eyes were wide as he took in the reception hall outside of the historic New York theater.  

“The last one I went to was in 1943,” Steve admitted with a chuckle.  “It’s just like watching a normal movie, except the stars are sitting next to you.”

“This is _so_ awesome,” Peter’s attention flew to a celebrity Steve didn’t recognize and the teenager was gone in a heartbeat.

“How old is he again?” Bucky questioned, his brows arched in thought.  “Because I’m pretty sure you should be able to vote before fighting crime.”

“He’s a good kid,” Steve assured his friend.  “Been through a hell of a lot more than most of us.”

Bucky dropped the subject and nudged his friend in the ribs, his eyes drifting toward the entrance of the room.  

“Your lady is here,” he looked toward the doorway where a few members of the press were taking photos.  Emma entered the room with a shy smile and answered a few questions before making eye contact with Steve.

Bucky stood up first, kicking Steve in the foot to do the same.  Emma approached with a lopsided grin and gave Bucky a kiss on the cheek.  

“Don’t you two look just dashing,” she commented.  Steve gave her a small kiss on the lips and she reddened when a nearby photographer caught the intimate moment.  

Their relationship was no secret to the public at this point.  Considering they were both fairly well-known figures and Emma had been caught once or twice on missions with the team; the public pieced it together quickly.

“You look beautiful,” Steve held his hand up and Emma gave a small spin, the bottom of her dress swirling with her.  It was Pepper who made the final decision on what she wore.  It was a deep burgundy dress that flared out around her ankles.  Instead of her usual long sleeves, her shoulders were covered in a small shawl, which when removed, revealed a sweetheart halter neckline.

“I feel a little like a princess,” she admitted excitedly.  “ _And_ I get the ultimate prince charming.  Tonight could not get any better.”

“Your lines are worse than mine,” Bucky scowled at Emma before excusing himself to get a drink while more celebrities filtered in.  

She glanced over her shoulder, seeing that they were alone and pulled a small parcel out of her handbag.  

“I got something for you,” she passed the bundle to Steve, who looked at the package curiously.  

“I didn’t-,” he began, trying to give it back but she shook her head.  

“Oh just _open_ it,” she insisted, pressing it into his chest.  “It’ll hurt my feelings if you don’t.”

He pulled the wrapping free and looked at the object.  

It was a book; a hardcover edition of a novel titled _Hands_ by Emma Miller.

“Open the first page,” She urged, biting down her bottom lip in excitement.  He flipped to the first page; the dedication.  

_I dedicate this novel to the shy neighbor boy across the hall from me._

_The man who would stop traffic to help a kitten cross the street._

_Thank you for saving me and taking my hand when I needed it._

_I love you._

 

Under the dedication, Emma had scribbled her autograph underneath.  

He was speechless.

“One of a kind,” she pressed her finger where the publishing information was.  “You have the very first copy that came off of the press.”

She didn’t get a chance to continue before he had pulled her in and kissed her so passionately that Steve swore he could feel her swoon.  

“I can’t wait to read it,” he whispered, holding her cheeks between his hands.

“Get a room,” Tony stated, appearing behind Emma.  The author’s cheeks grew unbearably red.  “I’m assuming you gave it to him?”

“I did,” she confirmed, fanning herself and regaining her composure.  

“You’re a lucky man,” Tony playfully punched Steve in the shoulder.  

“You don’t have to tell me,” he replied, beaming in Emma’s direction while she chatted with Pepper.  

If Emma was thankful she’d answered the door that day, Steve was doubly so.  Ever since that moment, his life had changed for the better.  The two of them were by no means perfect, but they were perfect for each other.  Balancing one another and holding each other up in moments of duress.

* * *

“I’m telling you,” Emma took a long sip of her chocolate shake and held her slice of cake next to Steve’s stack of pancakes.  “They’re the same thing.  Same basic components.”

The movie premiere, like most events with Pepper in charge, went perfectly.  

There was dancing, drinking and overall a well earned night of relaxation for the team and the members of the movie cast.  

So far, _Poker Face_ was receiving favorable reviews.  Though Emma insisted her book was significantly better than the movie.  

“They _always_ leave out the important details,” she had sighed after the the credits began to roll.

Steve was the one who had suggested they get something to eat before heading back home.  Emma didn’t know it, but he also had a surprise for her that evening.  

She continued her argument against pancakes, occasionally taking a bite of her cake in conjunction with a sip of her shake.  

Some things never changed.

“Ok, fine,” he held up his hands and laughed.  “I’ll admit, there are similarities.”  

She simply grinned in victory, flagging down the waitress to place an order of celebratory french fries.  When her attention was diverted, Steve placed his gift at the center of the table.  He kept his expression neutral when Emma’s gaze returned to her date.  

It was a small box, with a tiny bow attached to the top.

“We’re getting a puppy!” she guessed playfully, before opening the lid and looking at confusion at the object inside:

A key.  

She looked up to Steve for further explanation, but he wasn’t cracking.  When the fries arrived, she would take a bit, give a guess and frown when he shook his head.

“The sooner you finish, the sooner I can show you,” he cryptically replied.  Emma all but shoveled the food down and threw a few bills on the table.  She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the diner onto the street.  

It was still fairly early, the sun hadn’t quite peeked over the horizon and the streets were all but devoid of people.  

“Lead the way good Captain,” she announced.  He took her hand in his and started walking down the road.  

“The first time we took this walk, you looked like you were about to have a heart attack,” he mused, looking over at the woman next to him.  “Look at you now.  All dressed up and nowhere to go.”

“Well, somewhere to go,” she pointed out, holding up her tiny box.  “I just don’t know where.”

“I used to run this path every morning,” he continued.  “After we went to breakfast that day, I would wonder what you were doing in that apartment all day.  Turns out it wasn’t much aside from nearly burning the block down.”

“One time!” she stopped and gave him a playful nudge in the shoulder.  He continued walking, pulling her along the way.

“Sam thought you were nuts,” Steve paused and lifted Emma over a patch of ice, chuckling when he continued walking with her over his shoulder.  She tried to argue her way back to the ground, but fell into a fit of giggles that eventually ended with her falling quiet.  

“I am nuts,” she relented, poking his back and turning her head to look forward over his shoulder.  “You’re just too nice for your own good.  You fell into my trap.”

“Or maybe it’s the other way around,” he countered.  “I’m pretty clever.”

“It’s those baby blues,” she gave a long, dramatic sigh.  “They’re dangerous.”

Steve stopped at the location he wanted and lowered Emma back to the sidewalk.  She looked around wildly before her eyes fell on the familiar apartment building and widened.  

“We can’t stay in the tower forever,” he shrugged and she hurried inside, nearly tripping over the hem of her dress when she entered the lobby.  

“What floor?” she looked to him excitedly and he nodded toward the mailboxes.  Neatly inscribed on one of the boxes were the names _“Rogers-Miller”_.

Emma didn’t even bother waiting for the elevator, instead sprinting up the staircase holding the edges of her dress out of the way.  Steve jogged after her, smiling at the reaction.  

When she reached the top, she scanned the doorways before stopping at the entrance to Steve’s old unit.

“So we get your old unit?” she teased, setting the key into the lock.  

“I figured there were too many unpleasant memories in your unit,” he reasoned.  “And honestly, you never spent a lot of time over.”

She jiggled the key until it turned and opened the door, turning on lights and gaping into the room.

“ _Steve_ ,” she seemed at a loss for words, stepping into the room and running her fingers over Steve’s bookshelf that contained all of her books.  The entire apartment was a combination of both of them.  It was something Steve had been very insistent upon.  

She opened the bedroom door and let out a gasp, hurrying inside.  

He followed behind, watching from the doorway when she paused with a chain in her hands.

It’d taken a lot of work.  He called in every favor he could find, had Tony tap every connection, and even then he couldn’t find what he’d been looking for.  It wasn’t until a brief conversation with Emma’s mother that Steve realized where to find it.

“ _You found Henry’s dog tags_ ,” she whispered, turning and clutching the small objects to her chest.  Her eyes watered and dove into Steve, her arms clinging around him.  He kissed the top of her head while small sobs shook her form.  

She pulled away and looked at him, her hands tracing the edges of his face while she swallowed back more tears.  

“It’s _perfect_ ,” she kept repeating.  “All of it… You’re perfect… Steve…”

He leaned in and stole a kiss between her words.  

“I love you.”  It was a truth that Steve had no hesitation in believing.  With every fiber of his being he loved the woman standing in front of him.  He loved how her mascara smudged when she went to rub her eyes, he loved waking up next to her and listening to her talk about lunch with Nat or Sam.  

“I love you too,” she whispered.  And Steve knew the truth was real for her as well.  

  


The End

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Honestly I've been procrastinating this forever- it's just surreal that my first story on here is over!  
> Took a while, but we're here and I wanted to thank everyone who stuck through to the very end. I'm sad that Emma and Steve's story is coming to an end, but there's always the possibility for one-shots in the future.
> 
> I do have two Bucky/OC stories going right now, Dust to Dust and Homemade Dynamite, which I will admit, are written a little better than this fic (who'd have thought that practice makes you better?)
> 
> Thank you all again for the love, the kudos, the comments and the support as we went through this. You're all absolutely amazing. Stay wonderful and I hope to continue hearing from you all going forward <3 -PS


End file.
